Forgiveness is a Two Way Street
by thrillerartist
Summary: In the aftermath of Hive's attack, the agents of SHIELD are left to pick of the broken pieces that remain of them after Lincoln's sacrifice. Daisy has gone, roaming crowded cities in an effort to find herself again. Until a familiar face returns to remind her just what she had run away from...and why she cannot come back.
1. Prologue

**I DO NOT OWN AGENTS OF SHIELD**

Forgiveness is a Two Way Street

By: thrillerartist

 _Dear Team,_

 _If you're reading this, then I am gone. SHIELD isn't a home for me anymore, and nothing will ever be the same again. Thank you for forgiving me of everything I've done, but honestly, I don't deserve any it. I betrayed the team. I betrayed SHIELD, and lost your trust, something I've worked so hard to earn._

 _I'm leaving. Please, don't look for me. Please, don't worry about me. I don't deserve your worry or your forgiveness or your pity. This is all to protect you. Everyone I have ever gotten close to, anyone who has ever tried to protect me, has ended up dead or damaged beyond repair. I can't let that happen to anyone I care about anymore._

 _In the end, the only person that can get hurt from me leaving, is me. I'm sorry for doing this to you, but you have to understand, you didn't do anything. I'm the one who decided to help Hive, so I'm the one who needs to pay the price._

 _Please don't come looking for me. I won't be found unless I want to be._

 _I'm sorry._

 _-Daisy_

That was the note I left my team a month ago.

A month ago, I ran away from the only place I could ever call home.

A month ago, I chose to make the hard call. I chose to run away. To protect them. Everyone I have ever gotten close to has ended up dead. It happened to those SHIELD agents in China, and to the villagers who to protect me from my maniac father. It happened to my friend Trip, who followed me down to that Kree temple to try and save me. It happened to Lash-Andrew-who died freeing me from the sway of Hive. It happened to Lincoln, who got on that quinjet so that I wouldn't. My birth parents were permanently damaged after I disappeared. My mother was tortured by Whitehall, broken beyond repair to the point of her becoming psychopathic. My father lost himself trying to find my mother and I, experimenting on himself until he became the personification of Mr. Hyde. And let's not forget about what I did to Mack when I was high on Hive's sway.

I just couldn't _take it_ anymore. I couldn't look at the faces of my teammates, my family, and not be reminded of what I did. Choking Fitz, almost killing Mack, framing Lincoln…

It was all too much to bear.

My team tried to help me get through it, but I didn't want it. But then thanks to the help of my friends, I was able to remember why Lincoln died.

So that I would live.

But I wasn't living, and I still had a promise to keep to an old friend. I tried to make SHIELD my home again, but everywhere I looked, I saw the memories of what I did. It wasn't an easy decision to make. But it had to be done.

I needed to be the shield at that moment. The shield for my friends. To protect them from the curse that's plagued me all my life.

I left.

I ran away, and I've been off the grid ever since. I have no phone, no computer (which, being a hacker, really sucks for me), nothing that SHIELD can use to trace me. I hide in cities most of the time, trying to blend into the crowd. I swipe clothes from second-hand store trucks, so that they can't be traced.

Finally, I've stopped using my powers. SHIELD can track me by monitoring seismic activity throughout the country. If I use my powers, I might as well be saying, _Here I am! Come and get me!_

It's not that I don't want to go home-It's that I can't. I can't live with the things that I've done. The blood I've spilled.

It's better for everyone if I just stay away.

I jump trains when I want to get somewhere. Right now, I'm prowling through the streets of Boston, in the middle of winter, just trying to get things to make sense again. Which is pretty close to impossible. I had a demonic Inhuman parasite in my head, and I was addicted to its presence. Nothing will ever make sense for me again.

I try to steer clear of traffic cameras and ATMs, but when it can't be helped, I just pull my hat down and my hood up. It being the middle of the Massachusetts winter, nobody neither notices nor cares. Most of the time, I hardly know where I'm going. I'm too lost in my depression to care.

If I saw my past selves, I wouldn't see the person I am inside them.

Skye was a naive, homeless hacker.

Daisy was a fool for thinking that the inhumans could be gathered to create the Secret Warriors Initiative. To make a "place where they were needed". I don't even know what to call myself these days. Daisy was the name of a hero. A name I no longer deserve to be called, because I am no longer the hero I thought I was.

I suspect I have become a monster.

Suddenly, there's a familiar twinge in my gut. As much as I try to forget my SHIELD training, my body doesn't. What I'm feeling right now is the sensation of being tailed. And so, I do the only thing that makes sense at the moment. I stop walking.

"Daisy." A familiar voice calls.

It's Coulson.

I start walking again, away from the man who had become my father.

"Daisy, I know that's you." He calls again. "I know you can hear me." I hear footsteps run to catch up to me. I tense up. Coulson is just a few paces behind me.

"Don't come any closer." I say coldly.

"Daisy", Coulson says. I can hear the relief in his voice. I turn around to face him, keeping my head down.

"I told you not to come looking." I say.

"Daisy," Coulson says, desperation in his voice. "You need to come back to SHIELD. The Inhumans need you. _We_ need you."

I laugh harshly. "No", I say. "You don't. You need someone you can trust." I turn around and continue walking.

"The Daisy I knew wouldn't abandon SHIELD!" Coulson shouts. The words clench my heart, filling me with sorrow and guilt and anger. They were the same words Lincoln had said to me when I betrayed the team for Hive.

I turn around again, slowly, and look Coulson in the eye. "The Daisy you knew," I say slowly, coldly. "Died the day Hive infected her. Now, all that's left is a body that gives off little tremors and quakes."

"No", Coulson says gently, walking towards me. "She's still here. She's just a little lost. She needs help."

"I think we both know I'm too far gone for helping." I say quietly.

We're face to face now. Coulson puts a hand on my shoulder. "Daisy-"

"No!" I shout, pushing his hand away. I can't accept his comfort. He should just kill me. He shouldn't be here to try and take me back. He should be glad I'm gone. He should hate me.

But he doesn't. And he's a fool for not doing so.

"You don't get it!" I shout again. This is the loudest I've talked in a month. I feel my eyes welling up with tears. "You don't get it! You don't know! You don't get to act like you know what I'm going through! I'm a freak! A traitor! A murderer! I sided with a madman over my of team! My own _family_!" I feel tears fall down my cheeks even though I try to keep them in.

Coulson is quiet for a while. He doesn't make another attempt to touch me, which I'm grateful for. But he does talk. "That wasn't your fault." He says gently.

"But it still happened." I say, the tears drying up. "And the team will never look at me the same way again. _I'll_ never be the same again."

Coulson puts another hand on my shoulder, and I pull away quickly. "Don't touch me!" I yell.

"Daisy", Coulson halfway begs. "Come home." The desperation in Coulson's eyes breaks my heart even more. After all the things I've done, those horrible, horrible things, he still wants me to be a part of his team. To be a part of SHIELD. But I know that that can never happen because of what I did.

"I can't", I whimper. "I'm sorry." And I turn to walk away again.

"Daisy", Coulson calls after me. "I'm here to take you back."

So he didn't come here just to try and talk me into going back, but to forcefully bring me back to SHIELD if I refused.

"I'm not going back." I say, and keep walking.

"Don't make me ICE you, Daisy", Coulson warns. That stops me dead in my tracks. He was willing to bring me back by any means necessary. He must be pretty desperate.

He just doesn't know how desperate I am to stay away.

"Daisy, either you turn around and come willingly, or I have no choice but to ICE you, and I honestly don't want to do that." Coulson warns me again. I continue walking. And then I start running.

"Daisy!" He yells, and runs after me.

I haven't used my powers since the day I left SHIELD. I don't want to draw attention to myself, but I have no other choice. I have to protect my friends from the demon I have become. Besides, I won't be in this city when the sun comes up, so it won't make any difference if I use my powers or not.

I pull my hands out of my pockets and gather up my energy, getting ready for a full blast. In theory, this should work, but it's the first time I've ever attempted it, so I very well could end up being a stain on the pavement. Or I could bring down every building on the block. Or I could shatter both my arms, making things easy for Coulson, who would drag my broken frame back to SHIELD.

"Daisy, don't you-!" Coulson shouts.

I launch myself up off the pavement, and arc my body midair to land-feet first-on the rooftop of a dingy apartment complex. I look down, and I see Coulson staring at me, and then see him point his ICER and fire. He was actually going to shoot me!

But the shots don't come anywhere close to me. I must be out of range.

"Damnit, Daisy!" Coulson shouts. "We forgive you! Damnit, we _forgive_ you! Just come home!"

 _Don't do that,_ I think. _Don't forgive me. I don't deserve it. No matter how many times you forgive me, I'll never be able to accept it. Because I'll never be able to forgive myself._

And then I turn and run away. Run away from my family. Run away from everything I did.

Sometimes, I think running is the only thing I know how to do right.


	2. Chapter 1: Moving on to a New Purpose

**Chapter 1: Moving on to a New Purpose:**

It's been six months since I ran away from SHIELD. It's been less than a week since Coulson and Mac tried to forcefully take me back. After meeting with Robin and her mother, I narrowly escaped a small army of SHIELD agents, and once again, I'm on the run.

Right now, I'm roaming through Detroit, trying to track down a Watchdog cell that's based somewhere in the city.

Since my little altercation with Coulson a few months ago, I have changed my appearance to try and blend in more. I avoid people when I can, but when it can't be helped, I try to look and act as indistinguishable as possible.

But it isn't just my appearance that's changed. My mission has as well.

No Inhuman is safe as long as the Watchdogs are out searching for them. People like me.

People like Lincoln, and Lash, and Charles Hinton. I promised him that I would protect his daughter, and I intend to do just that.

SHIELD can't help me.

Nobody can help me.

This is MY fight.

I am going to _destroy_ the Watchdogs.

The first step to doing that, is to defund them. They have support from bigoted, anti-alien politicians and business owners. There was a bank that helped fund the Watchdogs via "charity donations". Hundreds of thousands of dollars that would've been spent on weapons, hate-speech propaganda, and recruitment. Money that would've aided in the deaths of innocent people. So, I took out the bank when it closed for the night, and stole their funds. The money I gave their blood money to Robin and her mother, so that they could start a new life where they wouldn't be bothered.

Now that the Watchdogs have lost their main source of income, they're scrambling to find new ways to get what they need. They're becoming more and more desperate the more I do to them.

I _was_ going after another bank that was smuggling money into the Watchdogs, but something else had recently grabbed my attention. Something _more_ important.

A girl had been kidnapped from her foster home by a group of burglars. They ransacked the home, knocked out the family, and took the girl from her bed. Those are just the facts that I had heard on the news. Normally, I leave things like this to the police, but there are some rumors you hear on the streets that doesn't get reported.

Like how the assailants were wearing dog masks.

Like how the police found remnants of a terrigenesis cocoon in the girl's closet.

Ever since I heard those rumors, I've been keeping my ears open to any other interesting tidbits of information. And skimming the Dark Web through public library and cafe computers has helped, too. Hacking _is_ what I do best, after all.

Thanks to an old Dell computer from a public library in the city, I was able to hack into local police records and the girl's foster records.

Her name is Abby Prescot, age 13. She'd been staying with a family in a townhouse in a good area of the city, with a good family who was looking to adopt another child. Abby was ripped away from her life when it was just beginning to start.

I will make. Them. Pay.

Last night, I picked up chatter on the Dark Web, where the Watchdog sites were viral, that an 'interesting package' was set to arrive at a cell in south Detroit.

That is my next target.

The Watch Dog den was in the basement of a pool hall. I was able to trace deposit statements from the bank I targeted to the owner of the building

It's not a place where you'd expect to find a den of terrorists. The hall is sandwiched between a cheap laundromat and a mom and pop corner store. On the outside, it looks like the type of place where mid-life-crisis dads go on the weekends to act like they're bad-ass bikers. The inside looks like a plain sports bar littered with empty pool tables. The bar is empty, and the TVs are playing a cricket game to an empty audience. Despite the normalcy, there's an eerie feeling to this place. The silence is deafening, stale cigarette smoke hangs in the air, and every footstep I take seems to echo throughout the hall.

I see a door in the back reading "Authorized Personnel Only", and when I open it, I see is leads to the basement. I can hear arguing that I couldn't hear before, thanks to the cinder block walls that make up the foundation.

Slowly, I creep down the stairs, and with each step, the voices get louder, and I think I can hear a little crying.

I stop right before the landing, when I hear a deep voice shout, "ENOUGH!"

Silence follows, and the voice continues, "We'll take the freak out of the shower, and take her to the lake. We'll finish the job there. Spike, get the camera. Zeke, when its crying stops, bring it out, and keep it in the flame-blankets. Knock it out if you have to, but don't kill it yet. We need the world to see this!"

I swallow my anger and fear. They were planning on killing a _kid_!

These guys will stop at nothing.

I step out from the stairwell, and send a quake across the room. The foundation shakes, and the lights rattle, giving the already creepy hideout a horror movie vibe. The Watch Dogs all fall straight on their asses, some hitting their heads against the stone wall. Immediately, I feel two thick arms grab me from behind in a choke hold. My instincts take over, and I bend at my waist, blasting his ribs with enough force to make him let go.

When I turn around, another man is pointing a gun at my face.

"Well, well." He smirks. "We didn't even have to go looking for you, Quake. _You_ came right to _us_!"

I really wasn't in the mood to hear is psychobabble, so I quake him and steal his gun when it falls from his hands.

"Where's the girl?" I ask, shoving his pistol in his face.

"I won't talk." He snaps, and slowly, I pull the trigger, relishing in the BANG! of the gun.

"Next on goes in your eye." I say to the cowering man with stone-cold seriousness. He's maybe in his late twenties, and it shames me to think that he could be filled with so much hate at such a young age. His eyes are as wide as teacup saucers as he sees the quarter sized hole in the wall next to his ear. The grunt 's face turns into a angry glare as he tilts his head right, in the direction of a hallway. "She's in the shower." He mumbles.

Satisfied, I pistol-whip him to keep him out of my way.

I follow the Dog's direction, and I see a lone door at the end of a blank hallway. A lone light bulb flickers. As I approach, I hear water running behind the door. One of the goons did say they stuck the girl in the shower, but I can't imagine why. Maybe it was to keep her disoriented?

The door's locked, so I'm forced to kick it down. Inside, I see the girl curled up in a ball, laying in the tub while water rained down on her from the showerhead. I rush over to her, and try to turn off the water, when she shouts, "DON'T!"

But I ignored her and turn it off anyway. The bastards kept the water ice cold, probably to weaken her and make her hypothermic. "It's okay." I say, turning to face her. "It's okay. I'm here to help you. I won't let those guys hurt you anymore." I crouch down by the tub, and try to put my hand on her shoulder to reassure her, but she pulls away from me as if I were radioactive.

The girl just stares at me with big, terror-filled, brown eyes, wet hair plastered to her flushed face. "No", she whimpers. I then notice that, strangely, she was not shivering, despite the coldness of the water.

"It's okay." I say softly, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help."

"You don't understand!" The girl yells, and I feel a wave of pure heat blast my face. It stuns me, and I put my hands out to protect my eyes, which have started to see bright spots, as if I had stared right into a flashlight. When my sense come to again, the girl is gone, not a puddle or a drop to tell me where the soaking, terrified, girl had gone.

It seems that I'm not the only one who's running from something.

 **To be continued….**


	3. Chapter 2: Wisdom from the Past

**I DO NOT OWN MARVEL'S AGENTS OF SHIELD!**

Forgiveness is a Two Way Street

By: thrillerartist

 **Chapter 2: Wisdom from the Past**

I struggle to get up off the bathroom floor, which has become soaked with water from the torture-shower the girl was subjected to.

I grasp the sink, trying to regain my bearings. Heat still radiated off of my face, and when I look in the grimy mirror, I see that it's flushed and red. I look like I spent the day at a beach without any sunscreen. _Well,_ I thought ruefully, _I'm pretty sure her gift has to deal with fire._

Carefully, I sneak out of the bathroom. The most of the Watchdogs are still passed out, but some are coming to. And since I don't want to go toe-to-toe with them right now, I book it up the basement stairs, and back out the front door of the pool hall. The street is still quiet, but I can hear sirens in the distance.

 _Think, Daisy!,_ I tell myself as I begin to run down the street towards an alley, _If you were Abby, where would you go right now? You've just turned, you're scared, people are after you. Where would you…_

And then I remember where _I_ went when I'd gone through Terengenisis. I went back to the only home I knew. Abby was a foster kid, about to be adopted by her current foster family. That was the only home she knew, so she'd probably go to them.

That's probably the worst place she could be going to right now. She can't control her gift, she doesn't know what's happened to her. If her gift acts up while she's home, and her foster family gets caught up in the crossfire, there's no telling what could happen.

I was burned just by being in the same room as Abby, and if her gift is fire, then...aw _crap!_

I run in the direction of the sirens, because wherever there are sirens, usually, there are fire trucks. And police.

Abby's foster home wasn't hard to spot. That's because it was on fire. I could already smell the smoke, and could see the flames from a block away. As I got closer to the home, watching from a back alley, I saw firemen dousing the flames with water, trying to control the inferno. But even I knew that they were fighting a losing battle. Flames consumed every room of the two story house, licking up its walls like giant orange tongues. It would take luck to put to put the fire out. Saving the house would take a miracle.

"That child's got the devil in her!" A shrill voice screamed. There was a plump woman with frizzy yellow hair yelling at a police officer, who I assume was trying to take her statement. "I knew it! I knew it! That girl was _trouble_ from the start!" The woman said in a slight southern drawl.

It must've been one of the nosey neighbors. The family, I saw, was in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in blankets and being treated for smoke inhalation. Two parents, two kids, just like Abby's file said.

 _The family made it out okay,_ I thought. _That's good, but where's Abby?_

"That's what they get for taking in a child like that!" The woman yells again.

 _Can it, you old bag!_ I want to shout, but I can't get any closer to the house without being noticed. The orange and red light of the fire dances across the street like an evil disco ball, but the bouncing light also causes something to catch my eye. Leading out of the house, towards another back alley, was what looked like a puddle of water. Or at least, that's what I assumed. It was hard to discern, so I moved towards it, trying to be as inconspicuous as I could. When I saw what it truly was, a tremor of fear shook my spine. Was it… it looked like...what that a footprint? I squatted and touched the little foot shaped dent in the asphalt. It was wet and warm to the touch. This was obviously a result of Abby's gift. Somehow, she was able to melt the tar just by _standing on it._

No.

She was running! There was a jumbled set of footprints, all of them melted into the pavement, leading out of the house an up the street, obscured by the darkness of the night.

Since I had nothing else to go on, I followed the footprints, feeling like a character out of _Scooby-Doo!_.The footprints in the melted asphalt led me for three blocks, until I came across old library building. It looked like it was closed, but a gentle glow from the windows told me that someone was definitely inside. And I was willing to bet that that someone was Abby.

The front door is locked, but I find a broken window on the other side of the building. As soon as I enter, I can feel the temperature go up about sixty degrees, and it was already a pretty warm night to begin with. A gentle, flickering, orange light emanates from one of the stacks. As I approach it, I smell something burning. From that same direction came a soft, pain-filled sobbing.

"Abby?" I called, trying to sound soothing and gentle as I move towards the stack. "My name's Daisy Johnson. I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to make sure you're alright.

A timid voice says, "Leave me." It was so quiet that I almost didn't hear it.

"I'm not leaving, kid." I say. "I'm just trying to make sure you're safe."

"Oh great." The voice sobbs. "Then, I really _am_ a freak, aren't I?"

The visibility of the room was getting dimmer from the haze of the smoke. Abby's gift was just about setting the building on fire. I had to get to her, quickly!

Suddenly, I step on something wet and sticky, and when I looked down at my feet, I see that it's a melted pair of sneakers. Abby had melted through her shoes.

I needed to calm this girl down, and fast.

"Abby, I'm not going to hurt you." I say, staying where I was so that I wouldn't frighten the girl.

"Yes you are!" Abby's voice says again, "You're going to take me to your lab at Area 51, or back to that gang's hideout, and then you're going to cut me up and experiment on me!", before she breaks down into another sobbing fit. Smoke was filling the room, and I was coughing every now and then, trying not to choke on it, but it was getting harder to breathe.

"Area 51?" I laugh. "You watch way too many sci-fi thrillers." Then I turn a corner of the stack, and see a small girl curled up in a ball, crying into her knees. The sleeves of her gray long-sleeve shirt were on fire, and so were the cuffs of her jeans. Her feet were bare, and beet red, like she'd just walked through coals. Slowly, I approach her.

"Abby…" I sigh as I put my gloved hand on her shoulder. She tried to shake me off, shouting "Get away from me!", but I didn't let go. My hand felt like it was burning, but I couldn't let this girl go. I held on to her as she sobbed. "Let's try this again." I sigh. "My name's Daisy Johnson. I tried to help you back at the Watchdog den, but you ran away from me. I know what you're going through, and I'm here to help you. So please, kid, just let me help."

Those words, in that moment, seemed familiar to me, but I couldn't place _where_ I'd heard them.

"Please", she begs me, "I don't want to hurt you." Abby held out her hands, and opened her fingers, and I saw that they were glowing with the colors of molten lava. Her skin and fingers were burned and blistered under the glow, a side effect of the transition process. The part of her that was still clinging to her former human qualities was clashing with her new Inhuman powers. "I'm such a freak. I'm a freak, I'm-"

"Gifted." I say. "You were given a gift."

"This isn't a gift!" Abby yells, waving her blistered hands in my face. "This is a disease, just like those people on the TV said. And when they find me, they're gonna…they're gonna…" Abby puts her head in her hands, and cries. I grimace when I hear her hands sizzle against her skin, but it doesn't seem to phase Abby. I sit down across from her, trying to act calm, which was becoming hard, since the smoke in the building was making it more and more hard to breathe.

"My gift" I start, "felt like I had a million bees inside of me. Like I had an entire hive of inside me, and I felt it, all the time." I lean in a little closer, trying to appear non threatening to the scared girl. "What does it feel like?" I ask her. "Your gift?" Those words, I immediately knew. They were the same ones Gordon had said to me when he found me at Fury's cabin. They were the only words that seemed to come to me, because, honestly, those were the words that _I_ needed to hear after I turned.

Abby raises her head a little bit, but keeps her eyes on the dusty floor. "It hurts." She croaked. " It feels like there's fire running through my veins. My skin feels like it's burning, and whenever I touch something…" Abby touches the floor in demonstration, and we both watch as it singes and chars. When she lifts it off, a hand-shaped print in the floor is left. "I come here when I need to get away from my foster family." Abby says softly, almost nostalgically. "They're a good family, but...they're not _my_ family. Not yet, anyway. So I come here. Usually, I stay until the library closes, just reading. But I can't read if I burn everything I touch."

"Abby," I say, putting my hand on her shoulder, "I can help you..I know what you're going through."

"No you don't!" Abby shouts, shoving my hand away as hot tears drip down her cheeks, sizzling from the heat of her skin. "This isn't right." She whimpers. "People shouldn't be able to do this. People shouldn't...it's not _possible_!"

The flames by Abby's feet grew brighter and hotter, and smoke started to curl off of the shelf directly behind her.

"Abby," I say slowly, trying to talk her down. "The fire is spreading. If you don't get your emotions under control, it will continue, and the building will burn down on top of us."

Abby lets her hands fall to her sides as she struggles to stand on shaky legs, obviously in shock. "So get out." She says, her voice sounding empty, almost dead. "I don't want to be this... _thing_. So I'll burn down this building, and hope the fire takes me with it."

I shakily get to me feet. It's become almost impossible to breathe. "I'm not going to", I pause to cough, "let you do that." Abby tries to back away, but the bookshelf behind her was blocking her path. I reached out and gently grabbed Abby's burning hand. It was hot to the touch, and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from screaming in pain. I looked into the poor girl's eyes. They reminded me of a caged animal.

"I know right now you feel like a freak." I say, gently squeezing the girl's hand, something I wish someone had done to me after my transition. I cough from the smoke again before I continue. "I know you feel like there's no one else who can relate to what you're going through. Like your entire life, the good parts and the bad, means nothing now that you're different."

"I'm a freak." Abby whimpers. "There's something very, _very_ , wrong with me."

Those words hit me like a slap in the face. Those were the _exact_ words I'd said to Fitz after I changed. I immediately pulled Abby into a hug, and whispered gently into the young girl's ears, the words Fitz had said to me.

"There's nothing wrong with you." I say into her ear. " You're just different now. You're just different now, and there's _nothing_ wrong with that."

Abby broke down into tears right on my shoulder, wrapping her blistering arms around me. "Please help me." Abby said. "I don't know what to do."

"I promise," I say, "I'll help you get through this. I'll be by your side, every step of the way." I pulled away. My clothes were singed, some parts sprinkled with cindres, and my hand was blistered. But I shook off the pain, not wanting to lose Abby. The fire was spreading. I coughed, trying to get a breath of clean air.

"We've got to get out of here." I wheezed, and took Abby by the hand, and, using her powers, blew a hole into the sidewall, knocking over a shelf of books. Fresh air and moonlight welcomed us as we stumbled out into the street.

I double over coughing, while Abby, seemingly immune to the smoke inhalation, blushed and muttered "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Daisy. I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't, kid." I rasp, gulping clean air like it was water in a desert.

The night was quiet, the air smelled like freedom, and I had just rescued a scared Inhuman girl from herself. I had no clue what our next move was, but I knew that from here on out, it was my job to protect this girl from anything and anyone that would try to cause her harm.

"C'mon, kid." I wheeze, motioning towards the back alley where we'd come. "Let's-"

"Freeze, you freaks!"

 **To Be Continued...**

* * *

 **Another Cliffhanger! MWAHAHAHA I'm so evil!**

 **But seriously, I have more in store for this fanfic, and there will be more chapters to come in the future. And, since summer's started early for me, I have more time to write! Expect more thrills and twists and turns, otherwise, I would not be living up to my name!**

 **~thrillerartist**


	4. Chapter 3: My One Regret

**Chapter 3: My One Regret**

The chills I receive at the sound of those words are not of fear, but of anger. Of hatred. Of the contempt I felt for those who preyed on vulnerable people who had no clue as to what was happening to them.

Behind me, I can hear the tell-tale _click_ of loaded guns, and the shuffling of heavy boots on pavement. The Watchdogs were back, and with a vengeance so strong you could almost taste it.

Instinctively, I get to my feet, and as I turn around to face the masked men, I put Abby behind me, not at all hesitating to put myself directly in the line of fire. At my core, I am still a protector.

There were about five Watchdogs surrounding the front of us, all of them sporting their snarling dog masks. I knew that there would be more coming, because where there was one dog, there was usually an entire pack nearby.

Trying to look as intimidating as I could while still recovering from smoke inhalation, I put my arm out towards the men, using the other to keep Abby behind me. I take a deep breath. For a split second, I think _Maybe, just maybe, I can reason with them._

"Put the weapons away." I croaked, as loud as I could. "She's just a kid."

"Don't care", one of the masked dogs grunts, "a weapon's a weapon, a freak's a freak. The offspring of a snake is still a snake." He moves his head back to his men, still keeping his eyes on us. "Keep the guns up, men! Don't let your guard down, even if it _is_ a young one."

Not being able to help myself, I steal a glance back at Abby. Tears were beginning to reform in her eyes, not out of sadness, but out of fear. Her hands are resting on the arm that's keeping her behind me, and I can feel her warming hands shake.

Her face reminded me of myself on the day that I awoke from Hive's sway. Of the terror I felt when Lincoln had been injured. Of the fear and frustration and regret I had locked inside of me when I attempted to board that jet with a bomb that was about to detonate. There were so many things that I felt that day. Determined. Brave. Scared. Loved...Regretful.

 _Of all the things I regretted doing THAT DAY,_ I thought as I looked into Abby's eyes, _not protecting them when they needed me most is the biggest._ That thought only took a second, but that was all it took for me to finally make up my mind.

I turned back to the Watchdogs, who have begun to encroach closer to us. "You want her?" I taunted them. "You're going to have to get through me." They lead Watchdog, the one who had spoken earlier, pointed his gun right at me, daring me to move. I couldn't read his expression with the mask covering his face, but I knew that he must've smiling with arrogance. "I've been waiting a long time for this." He growled, pointing his gun at my face.

Out of the corner of my eye, behind the burning library, I saw an old dumpster.

A plan begins to form in my mind.

Dumpsters are usually made of thick steel.

Steel slows down bullets.

And this dumpster led straight into the street, which was _packed_ with parked cars.

"Abby", I whisper behind me, "When I give the signal, run and jump into _that_ dumpster." Then I held out my second hand, and, turning back to the Watchdogs, shout, "She's just a scared kid! Leave her alone! You can have me, just leave. Her. Be!"

"No", the lead dog says. "She's a threat that needs to be contained."

No longer being able to contain my anger, I let it all out. "She's a thirteen year old girl," I roar, planting both my feet into the ground, " who has no family, no home, and thinks no one in the world cares what happens to her!"

"She'd be right about that assumption!" Another dog yells. "Nobody cares about freaks of nature!"

I stand ready for a fight, but take the time to whisper, "Get ready, kid.", to Abby.

A subtle nod from her lets me know she heard me.

 _I sure do hope this works!_

"You wanted to see the great Quake", I snap, "Well, buddy, you _got_ her!" and I let out a blast of seismic power, sending the Watch-Thugs flying, and yelling "RUN!"

I let my arms fall to my sides as the men got back to their feet, and watch as they begin running towards me. They circle around my like wolves ready for attack. A hit from behind tells me that they aren't gonna be playing nice tonight. Go figure.

My fighting instincts kick in, and I'm jabbing and punching and kicking in ways that would've made my old S.O. proud of me. My training wasn't wasted, although it's not used for its intended purpose. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I let it take over, and soon I don't even think about my attacks. I use their own mass and force against them, judo-flipping them onto the pavement with every chance I can get. The odds are in _my_ favor.

Quickly, I take a peek at Abby, and see that she's sprinting towards the old dumpster I told her about. But there is a hiccup.

One of the Dogs is following her.

I raise my hand and let out a blast of energy that pushes Abby along and knocks the lone Watchdog down. I savor the image of him eating the pavement.

But that one guilty pleasure costs me a hit. One knock on the head from behind is all it takes for the tables to turn on me. I fall to my knees, seeing stars and hearing loud ringing, and feeling the dull aches of punches and kicks on my chest and face. This wasn't really how I wanted my plan to go, but I'd have to keep going in any way I could. While I was contempt with the thought of dying this way a few months ago, I now have someone who is in need of my help. And I have a chance at redemption for myself.

If that wasn't worth living for, then I don't know what was.

I raise my hands, not to block the attacks, but to direct a vibration away from myself. I've only done this a few times before, and it's succeeded both times.

 _Let's hope the third time isn't the unlucky one!,_ my negative side comments.

I focus my energy before I release it towards my feet. I feel a stabbing ache grow in my left arm, but I ignore it. The blast pushes me away from my attackers with the force of a super-speed waterslide, and before I know it, I'm landing against the steel wall of the dumpster. My right shoulder aches where I've slammed into the metal, but when I look up, I see Abby's head over the rim, and she shouts, "Get in!"

I happily oblige, grunting in pain as I climb up an over the side of it, my feet going through bags of week-old garbage. A lone maggot squirms across the toe of my boot.

 _Gross._

"Now what?!" Abby yells at me. I turn around, and see that the Watchdogs are getting to their feet. My last blast must have knocked them down again.

 _Why, O why, can't they just STAY DOWN?_ My inner thoughts complained.

"Daisy, what's your plan?" Abby says, doubt etched in her voice.

"This." I say, putting out my hands again, focusing all my energy, again, and letting it all out at once. Tremors shake the streets, and I can feel the foundation of some buildings begin to crumble. Abby's beloved library full of books probably wouldn't survive this.

But my plan _does_ work. The dumpster moves at jolting speed, knocking Abby off her feet and into the garbage, some of which has accidentally set on fire. Just as the last of my energy runs out, a crack goes through the air-and another stab of pain flares through my left arm- before our dumpster crashes into the side of a brick building. I lean over the lid, gasping for breath and trying to force the pain away. Abby gets to her feet and stands next to me.

"Oh", she said quietly, "I see now."

"C'mon." I sigh, grunting as I jump down from the refuse bin. "Let's find a better ride."

Abby swings her legs over the lid, and hops down onto the pavement. Her clothes have stopped burning away, and she's no longer melting the pavement. She's finally starting to calm down. There's an old toyota pickup truck at the end of the street, which I run to, to see if it's open. It is. I lean under the driver's seat and start hot-wiring it, ignoring the pain in my left arm and hand as I work. In my peripheral vision, I see Abby come to my side.

"You're going to steal some dude's car?" She says in shock.

I immediately stop what I'm doing, and stare at the girl beside me in surprise. "After everything you've been through tonight", I say, " _this_ is what you're most shocked at?"

Abby stares back at me, as if the thought of stealing a car was one she'd never consider, not even if she were kidnapped, tortured, _and_ going through alien-puberty.

I huff and say, "It's this, or the dumpster, kid. Take your pick." I don't even give her the luxury of responding before I go back to hot-wiring.

When I hear the engine rev, I hop into the driver's seat. I close the driver's side door behind me, wrapping the fingers of my right hand around the wheel, and resting my left arm in my lap. But Abby is still standing in the street, looking like a homeless beggar in her half-burned clothes. She was staring at me, awe-struck that she was about to participate in grand-theft auto.

"Well", I said gruffly. "Get in."

Numbly, she walks to the passenger side, and gets into the seat beside me, buckling her seatbelt reluctantly.

"I don't like stealing cars." She mumbled as I pulled out of the street.

I laugh. She reminded me of Mack at that point, the way she didn't want to break the law, even under the most dire of circumstances.

"It's not stealing", I say as I turn onto the empty road, "It's borrowing. Indefinitely."

We drove for hours, not stopping until we crossed the border into Indiana. I drove for about another half hour, until we stopped at a shabby motel. It was an outdoor, two-story inn, the doors of each room facing the parking lot. The main building was at the front of the lot, and through its windows, I saw that the night manager was asleep at the desk. Now was the perfect time to borrow a room.

I nudge Abby's arm with my good hand. "Hey", I say, "get up. We're here." Abby stirs, groaning "Where's 'here'?" in response.

I get out of the car, and walk up to one of the doors of the motel. I force a small tremor-using my good arm- to jimmy the lock, and the door opened revealing a grungy room with one bed, a dresser, and a lumpy chair that looks like it's been around since the 80's. The floral wallpaper was peeling at the seams, and there were stains on the ceiling that I chose to believe were from water. It was disgusting, but it was a place to rest. Beggars can't be choosers.

I sense Abby beside me, and I take the time to truly look at her. Her leans have been burned to the length of shorts, and her long-sleeve shirt has become a grungy T-shirt. Her feet were barefoot, the only sign that she'd worn shoes was the melted rubber that stained her toes. Here hair was matted, and her face was coated with soot from the library fire. The circles under her eyes conveyed how exhausted she was.

I looked down at myself and saw that my clothes were burned, too. No doubt my face was dirty from the smoke, too, and the exhaustion was beginning to catch up with me. The adrenaline from the fighting had worn off hours ago, and the stabbing throb in my arm was becoming extreme. My left wrist was beginning to swell, and my fingers had turned crimson. Slowly, I clench my fingers-and wince at the pain it causes-before stepping into the grungy room.

"You take the bed." I say to Abby. She looked up at me, tired eyes flashing concern. "What about you?" She asks.

"I'll sleep in the chair." I say, walking to it and turning it around to face the door before sitting down. It took everything I had not to immediately collapse into sleep.

"Get some shut-eye." I say. "We'll rest for a few hours, and leave at dawn. There's only one other car in the lot, so we'll take the truck we have now, and drive it until we reach the nearest town. We'll swap cars again there."

Abby sits on the bed, but doesn't lie down. I could tell she was looking at me, even though I was staring at the door.

"Can I just ask", Abby said bluntly, "what the hell's happened to me?"

I turn to face her, not wanting to appear cold in front of her. I may have done all I could to forget who I used to be, but I don't think you could ever really do such a thing. I still had the same heart, no matter how much I've tried to forget I had one at all.

I said gently, "I promise that I'll explain everything in the morning, but for now, you need to rest."

"Can you at least tell me where you're taking me?" She said, crossing her arms in frustration.

"I'm taking you to people who can help you better than I can."

"What people?" She begs. "Who are you taking me to?"

I turn back towards the door. "I'm taking you to SHIELD."

 **To Be Continued….**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Don't you just love cliffhangers? MWAHAHAHAHA...nobody does, but they're fun to write! Anyway, I apologize for taking so long to update this story. I've had a busy few weeks, and haven't had much time to write. I'll be posting new chapters as quickly and efficiently as I can. Expect some familiar faces in the chapters to come, and some character development for our dears Daisy and Abby. Oh, and just so you know...there will be LOTS more thrilling moments to come!**

 **~thrillerartist**


	5. Chapter 4: Different Than I Was

**Chapter 4: Different Than I Was**

As soon as the words leave my mouth, all of the color drains from Abby's face.

"SHIELD?" She squeaked like a mouse. "As in the terrorist organization, SHIELD? The one that got busted three years ago for being riddled with modern Nazis? _THAT_ SHIELD?"

"Would it freak you out any more if I did?", I sigh.

In answer to my question, Abby jumps from the bed, and makes a break for the door. I don't really know what exactly her plan was, since _I_ was the one _guarding_ it. I stuck out my foot, and Abby tripped over it, all her focus having been on the door. Her face skid across the carpet, and her forehead bumped the doorframe. When she tried to get up, I placed the sole of my boot on her back, to prevent her from trying to run.

"Look, kid,"I say in a no-nonsense voice. I was tired, sore, burned, and just about at my wit's end with this kid. "The way I see things, you have two option. Option One is I leave you here in the middle of nowhere, your powers go haywire because you don't know how to control them, and cause a scene that gets you kidnapped again. And if the Watchdogs take you, they _will_ kill you." I lifted my foot off of Abby's back, and was relieved that she only got up to face me. She rubbed her forehead, where a red spot was forming from where her head hit the door. "Option Two" I continue, " is You come with me to SHIELD _willingly_. You learn a little control along the way, enough to get us to SHIELD headquarters, where you will be taken care of, and learn to properly control your powers."

"Do I get a third option?" Abby asks timidly.

"Nope", I smirk, "That's all you get, kid. The door's not locked, and you can leave if you want, but if you stay with me, I will do everything in my power to protect you. I know people in SHIELD who can protect you from the Watchdogs, and anyone else who would want to hurt you."

Abby's hands had started to smolder, and the look in her eyes when she looked at them spoke volumes of her fear. More than anything, I knew how much fear she was feeling.

"I care about what happens to you, kid." I said in a more gentle way. "I really do care. I want to help you, but I need you to cooperate with me. Please."

Abby looked down at her hands, and then back at me before she said, "Okay."

The next morning, around 5 am, I got up and went to the front desk. The night manager was still asleep, so I took the liberty of helping myself to the register, immediately earning about $200 in cash before raiding his office for a first aid kit. The only thing he had was a dirty box with some gauze and one tube of ointment inside. The gauze smelled musty, and the ointment was expired, but at this point, I'll take what I can get. When I looked through his desk to see if he had anything else, I came across his car keys. I took those, too, since the truck we stole last night was not only hotwired, but on E.

I took the loot back to our room and treated the burns on my hands, since they were the worst. The ointment stung me when I applied it, so I took that as a good sign. Then I loosely wrapped it in the gauze, just like Jemma showed me to do when wrapping a burn.

Abby was still asleep in the bed, curled up in the fetal position. Her face looked almost peaceful when she slept, and I almost wanted to let her sleep longer, but I knew we needed to start moving again. The sun was already rising, and I began to worry that the night manager would wake up soon and notice the new truck in the parking lot.

"Abby", I said as I nudged her shoulder. The sleeping girl bolted right up, blinking a few times, before taking in her surroundings. "I thought it was all a dream", I heard her whisper.

"I'm sorry that it isn't." I respond, "but we need to get moving. The night manager's still asleep, but I'm not sure he will be for much longer. The sun's rising, and we have to go."

Abby rolled right out of the bed, and together, we walked to our newly borrowed car, a beat up four door van. I got into the driver's seat, Abby in the passenger side. It was still dark out, but you could see the sun peeking over the horizon.

We pulled out of the motel parking lot, and drove along the empty road, as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky. And then, Abby noticed my bandaged hand.

"I did that?" She asked.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye before turning them back to the near-empty road. I pull up the sleeve of my right arm, trying to cover the gauze best I could. "It's nothing." I mumbled.

Abby slouches in her chair. Out of my peripheral vision, I see her examine her hands. "Why didn't I get burned from the fire?" She asked. " I only blistered. And look, they're already starting to heal!"

I flick my eyes to her hands, and see that she's correct. Her hands, which were covered in angry blisters last night, now only looked like they had a mild sunburn.

I turn my eyes back to the road again. This isn't the first time I'd had to explain Terengenesis to a new Inhuman, but it _is_ the first time I'd had to explain it to one this young. "It's...a complicated thing to explain."

"Like I've got anything better to do." Abby sighs.

"Alright," I sigh, "just, just bear with me here, kid.

"You're going through what's called Terragenesis." I start. "It's the process of transitioning from human to Inhuman, when your body begins to adjust to having a gifted ability. You've evolved into a powered being, but your body still thinks that you're fully human, so it's reacting the way any other human's body would react when around intense heat. You blistered, but the fact that your gift is fire, your body is probably creating an immunity to extreme heat."

"How long until by body becomes normal again?" Abby asks.

"Depends on what your definition of 'normal' is." I reply.

"I mean, when will my body not feel like it's on fire!"

"That will go away in a few days." I say quietly. "You're body will adapt to itself again, but until then, you're not going to feel like yourself. Like I said, you _literally_ have the gift of fire inside of you, so your DNA is-"

"Okay, stop _right_ there." Abby says, making the "timeout" sign with her hands. "You keep talking about aliens and DNA and me adapting to myself, but you've never fully explained what's happened to me, and I'm getting _really_ confused."

"Geez, you're a pushy kid." I sigh. "Alright. Thousands of years ago, an alien race called the Kree came to Earth to perform experiments on the inhabitants. They combined Kree blood with human DNA, hoping to create living weapons they could use in war. When the experiments failed, the Kree left Earth to try them on another planet. Only, some of the experiments didn't fail. Over time, the experiments evolved, and the humans whose bodies could accept the Kree blood evolved into super-powered beings.

"Those said experiments had descendants who kept evolving, but the Kree DNA inside them became a dormant gene, which would only activate if the person came in contact with particles from a Terrigen crystal, which is a special stone from the Kree's home planet. The end result is that the crystals give the Inhuman powers that were specific to their gene code."

When I finished, Abby remained silent for a long time. I don't know if she was just processing the information, or if I'd accidentally put the poor girl into shock.

"Okay", Abby finally says after a few minutes, " that's...that's a _lot_ of information. Let me see if I got this right: I'm part of an alien-human hybrid race called Inhumans."

"Yes." I say.

"Which are descendants from human experiments by aliens called the Kree."

"Uh-huh."

"Only, my alien genes don't activate until I come into contact with an alien rock."

"Yep."

"And lucky me, the alien rock gifted me with the power to burn stuff."

"In a nutshell", I say, "yes."

"And the Terrigen crystals gave you the power to cause earthquakes?" Abby asks.

I take a deep breath, and let out a long sigh of relief. The girl was being more rational about this than when I told her I had SHIELD ties.

"Yes, I can cause earthquakes." I say.

"Is that why they call you Quake?"

That struck a nerve. Tha _t stupid_ name was what some idiot on the news gave me, and I hated it more than I hated myself. "Never call me that." I snap at Abby.

Country roads gave way to a small town. The sun was high in the sky, and people were milling about the town. Mom-and-Pop shops were open for business, and local diners were packed for the late-breakfast rush. My stomach growled, and more than anything I wanted to stop and grab a bite to eat, but I knew we had to keep driving. In her seat, Abby had her face almost plastered to the passenger-side window.

"Can we please stop?" She asks.

"Sorry, kid, but no."

"Why not?"

"Town's too small." I say. "We can stop somewhere when we get to a city."

About an hour later, we had crossed the border into Kentucky, headed towards Louisville. We were currently in the outskirts of the city, so I decided to stop at a truck stop and grab some food and fresh clothes. Using the money I stole from the motel, I bought Abby and I some chips and coffee, as well as some fresh clothes (If tacky gas station sweatshirts count as clothes, that is). When Abby went to the bathroom to change and wash up, I took the liberty of buying fire-proofed work gloves with the leftover money, as well as bandages and cream for my hand. I paid the cashier, and went to the bathroom to change my bandage. When I walked into the women's bathroom and gave Abby the gloves, she gave me the weirdest look and asked, "What're these for?"

"They're fireproof", I said. "So you don't burn everything you touch."

"That hasn't happened in a while!" She'd protested.

"One hour doesn't count as 'a while'." I said, starting to lose my patience. "It's our only option right now, so put. Them. On."

Abby gave in, and slipped the gloves on over her small hands.

"How do I look?" She asked with a wry smile.

Her hair was matted, but her face was clean of ash. The shirt I bought her was a size too big, and combined with the gloves, made her look like a little kid dressed in her dad's clothes.

"Like a runway model", I say with a sarcastic smile. "C'mon, let's get outta here."

"Where, exactly, are we going?" Abby asks once we got back in the car.

"Massachusetts," I say as I buckle up. Abby did the same before asking, "So why are we headed in a Southeast direction?"

I put my bandaged hand behind her seat as I backup and say, "Because if we went through Ohio, we'd probably get arrested."

Once we gotten deep into Louisville, I stopped the car in front of an old warehouse. There were a few other cars parked in the street, but no traffic cops patrolling. A couple homeless people on a park bench were sharing a drink from a paper bag.

"Abby", I said while unbuckling my seatbelt, "get out." I open my door set one foot out of the car.

"Why?" Abby asks me as she undoes her seatbelt, and opens the passenger door.

I fully step out of the car, and onto the sidewalk. Abby joins me, and we start walking up the street.

"We need to switch cars." I say, putting my hands in my pants pockets.

"We have to steal _another_ car?"

I turn towards her, and give a small smile. "Kid", I start, "Welcome to the life of being a runaway homeless person!"

Abby thanked my sense of humor with a glare of disapproval, similar to the one Jemma would give me whenever I tried to convince her I wasn't hurt.

"Keep your eyes peeled for young idiots who don't leave their cars locked." I said to Abby as I began scanning the parked cars along the sides of the road.

"You mean like that guy?" Abby said, pointing her gloved hand towards a young guy with curly hair, round glasses, and skinny jeans. He'd parked his gray subaru next to a mailbox, and was starting to walk off towards a Starbucks.

"Good eyes, kid." I said in amazement. For a girl who was so against stealing, she was pretty good at finding a target for theft.

We both walk up to the car, and open the doors. Moron didn't lock his car! We could pull this off with no problem! That is, there _was_ no problem, until a nosey man tapped on Abby's window and asked us in a nasaly voice, "Is this your car?"

Abby's face paled, and the man gave her an intense look that said "I know what you're up to!"

"We're the repo people", I said to the man. "Owner hasn't paid his loan for the car, and the bank asked us to take it back."

"And you have this young lady here, because...why?"

"She's my younger sister." I answered, "and I was picking her up from school when I got this call." as soon as the words left my mouth, I immediately started mentally kicking myself. _We don't even look alike, Daisy, how's he going to buy it!?_

The man fixed another look at Abby. "Hmm," he grunts. "Is that true, young lady?" Abby snaps to attention, and sticks her chin out towards him in teenage defiance. "What?" She snapped. "You against blended families, or something."

The man was taken aback. "No, I just-"

"I'm sorry, I'm allergic to your intolerance." Abby said as she rolled up the window on him. Then she turned to me with a smirk and said, " Let's go, _sis_."

I drove off right before the guy who owned the car came running after us with his coffee.

"So what are your ties to SHIELD, anyway?" Abby asked me a few minutes after the incident with the man.

 _Oh boy,_ I thought, _where would I even start?_

Before I could answer, memories of better times flashed across my mind's eye. I saw Fitz with cream all over his face, courtesy of a prank. I saw Jemma doing a terrible job to cover for me as I was hacking into SHIELD for the second time. I saw Coulson offering me a place at SHIELD, handing me the badge I'd worked so hard to earn.

And then I saw darker memories.

I saw Coulson telling me about why my file was redacted. About the agents who had sacrificed their lives protecting me from the people who wanted to experiment on me.

I saw myself, sitting in a pool of my own blood, dying in a basement from a gut shot. Alone, not knowing if I would make it out.

I saw the look in Jemma's eyes when she found out I did not come out of the temple unscathed. That Trip died because he wasn't like me.

I saw myself fighting the Framework May, my mentor questioning me ruthlessly, my friend Fitz, torturing me for hours.

Finally, I saw Lincoln, flying into outer space.

So many things happened at SHIELD. Some were good, but most I wouldn't mind doing without.

At a stoplight, I took a glance at Abby, and realized that I could possible be bringing her into a hostile situation. _What will happen to her_ , I wondered, _when I bring her to SHIELD?_ The world wasn't ready for Inhumans when I was there, and not much has changed since I left.

"Daisy?" Abby asked me, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, tearing my eyes away from her, and back onto the road. "Just...remembering."

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." Abby said. "I was just asking."

"No, it's fine." I say.

 _She needs to know why I'm putting my trust in SHIELD,_ I told myself. _She needs to know she can trust them._

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly, letting my emotions fade into the background.

"A few years ago," I started, " I fell in with a hacktivist group called the Rising Tide. After the alien attack in New York, they wanted to expose all of SHIELD's secrets to the world. One day, a SHIELD team caught me hacking into their database. They arrested me, and took me to their HQ. One of the agents gave me two options: Go to jail for messing with a government website, or become a consulting hacker for a case they were currently working on. I chose the latter to avoid prison. Eventually, after a _lot_ of trust-building, I became a full agent."

"What made you leave?" Abby asked.

"A lot of reasons, kid." I sighed. "But mainly, I just couldn't take it any longer. I failed."

"Failed what?"

"After I got my powers, I was chosen to lead a covert operation task force made up of powered individuals. At first, everything was going alright, the task force was working, but then we encountered something our powers couldn't handle.

"One of our missions was to stop rogue Inhuman with the ability to control other Inhumans-both potential and fully transitioned. He...he got to me. He was bent on controlling the world using the power of Inhumans, and he used me to get SHIELD. He...he hurt and killed a lot of people. And I helped him do it."

"He...he brainwashed you?" Abby asked tentatively.

"Yes." The words tasted sour in my mouth. Was this how guilty criminals felt when they spilled their sins to the cops?

"What happened?"

"What do you mean, what happened?" I snapped. I understood why Abby wanted to ask these questions, but my wounds were still raw. It still seemed too soon to talk about this, but...it felt good to talk about it to someone.

"He used me," I said. "I betrayed my entire team for him, and got most of them killed. That's it. That's all you need to know."

"Okay, okay." Abby says, sounding sorry. "I'm sorry, it's just, you haven't explained-"

"Whatever." I cut her off. "Doesn't matter what happened after that, kid. Doesn't matter. My life in SHIELD ended that day, and I'm trying to make everything right again. Before I can move on."

"Move on?" Abby asked, " Like, going back?"

I snort. "I can _never_ go back to SHIELD, kid. I'm different than I was then. _Everyone_ was after that. I ruined something good, and I think it's best for everyone if I just stay away."

"Why?"

"Let's just say, people don't stick around me too long without getting hurt."

"You won't hurt me, Daisy." Abby said. I could feel her eyes on me, even though I wasn't looking at her. I wished she'd stop talking, I wish she'd just take a hint and realize that I didn't want to talk anymore about my life at SHIELD.

"And I don't think you're that much different now than you were when you worked for SHIELD." Abby said, sounding so sure of herself. I wanted to tell her _so badly_ that she was wrong. I am _so different_ from the girl I was at SHIELD.

Skye was a fool, and naive, to think that she could fix the world with her computer.

The Daisy SHIELD knew was an idiot to believe that her powers were a gift to be used for good. Powers could just as quickly be turned against you. Powers could make you dangerous.

Quake has powers.

Everyone says that Quake is dangerous.

They are right.

 **WARNING: HINT AT SUICIDAL THOUGHTS!**

Which is why, after I turn over Abby to SHIELD, I will continue to dismantle the Watchdogs.

And then my soul will be able to rest in peace when I exterminate Lincoln's killer.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hello, readers! I'm back! Sorry it took me so long, but I've been racking my brain trying to figure out which direction the story would go for this chapter.** **When writing fanfiction, I try to stay as true to the character's personality as I can. Sometimes, it's easy, but most of the time it's not. _Especially_ with a character as complex a Daisy! This chapter was more difficult to write, because now that Abby and Daisy are getting to know each other, it's hard to imagine how each character would react in different situations. I hope that the portrayal of Daisy in this story lives up to even a fraction of what it is on the show. **

**I've been getting some great feedback from my readers, and it's amazing to hear critiques from those who follow the story. Thank you so much!**

 **~thrillerartist**


	6. Chapter 5: Changes

**Chapter 5: Changes**

About six and a half hours later, we crossed the border into Huntington, West Virginia. I pulled over at a truck stop and filled up the tank with the leftover cash from the motel. I had about five dollars left, so I bought a pack of Redbull and a bag of chips, too. My exhaustion was taking me over, and I wanted to sleep _so badly_ , but I couldn't. Abby can't drive, and we need to get to our destination as quickly as we can. If that means I have to drop her off at SHIELD as a sleep-deprived zombie, so be it. Not like I care much, either way.

When I get back to the car, I see Abby's head resting on the window, just as I'd left her. I've grown used to watching her while she sleeps. She looks at peace, not the worrying, whining, often times too-serious teenager I've taken under my care. When she sleeps, she becomes the child she still is. I notice the little remnants of baby fat in her face, giving it a rounder edge. Her long hair falls all over the place when she sleeps, dark and thick and curly. And when her brown eyes close, I get a break from seeing the sadness in them.

Before I know what I'm doing, I tuck a little strand of her brown hair behind her left ear. Immediately, once I realized what I had done, I turn away and start the car. I want to get to SHIELD as quickly as I can, because the longer this takes, the more I will get attached to the girl I had saved-and that would make saying goodbye that much harder, and more hurtful. The last thing I would want to do to Abby is hurt her.

She's been through too much already.

It took me two hours, and two motels, and an entire six pack of Redbull before I could find a place where we could spend the night. The first one was too close to a rural town, and I wanted to avoid civilians as much as I could. So I continued on for another hour, before I came across another motel. That one had too many cars in the parking lot, which meant that there were more than several people staying there for the night. Finally, after I continued on for another ten miles, I was able to find an ideal place to spend the night. We were on the very edge of the Pennsylvania border at this point, and taking a backwoods track meant we'd be going through the rural areas. The run-down Red Roof Inn I stopped at was about ten miles from the state line, and aside from ours, there were only two other cars in the lot. Perfect.

I jimmy the lock of a room on the far side of the L-shaped building, closest to the cars. We still had gas in ours, having stopped a while back, so we'd be good to go for another thirty miles or so. That meant we wouldn't have to steal another one for thirty more miles.

The room was empty, luckily. Empty, and ugly. The bed sported thin sheets, the carpet was dirt brown, and the walls were pale yellow from age. There was one cushioned chair in the corner of the room, next to a lamp and desk. I pulled out the chair, and pushed it towards the door.

"Take the bed, kid." I yawned as I sat down. The energy drink wore off quickly, and right now I was in a major caffeine withdrawal.

 _Man, this is gonna be a long night,_ I thought. We were barely beginning the trek into Pennsylvania, and we _still_ had to get through Connecticut, New York, _and_ Rhode Island in order to get to the Massachusetts cape. At this pace, that would probably be about two and a half more days of driving. But if I drove through the night-

"But what about you?" Abby asks. I flinch and look up at her from my chair. She was still standing by the closet door, and she was staring at me intensely, like she was trying to squeeze some big secret out of me.

"I'll sleep in the chair." I grunt as I turn back to face the door. I try not to look at her, but I can feel her presence next to me. Without a doubt, she's still staring at me with that same intensity. "You need to sleep." She says, stating it as a fact.

"No, I don't." I say as I stare her down. "I need to protect you." I say sternly. "Just go to bed, and leave me alone."

I hate snapping at Abby like this, and in the back of my mind, I know that she's right. I know that I need to sleep. Just now, it's taking everything I can not to collapse. I know I need to sleep, but I can't. I can't let my guard down, not for one second, because I have to keep Abby safe. What if I slept, and someone attacked us in the middle of the night? What if the Watch Dogs tracked us all this way, even though we've been so _careful,_ and took her? Or worse-killed her?

I couldn't live with myself if that happened while I slept.

But Abby is just as stubborn as I am, and voices her opinion, even though I do _not_ want to hear it.

"They can't have followed us all this way." She starts,putting her hands on her hips. There's a hardness to her voice-the first time I've heard it since knowing Abby-that makes her sound very familiar. Memories tug at the back of my mind, begging to be released.

 _She's sounding a little like Jemma right now_ , I realizes. Jemma always scolded me like this whenever I neglected my health. Which is to say, I've gotten speeches like this _many_ times.

"We've switched cars-stolen them, actually," Abby continues, sounding authoritative, "which means they're untraceable-and we've done that several times by now. We even avoided an entire _state_ just to keep off of their trail." Abby takes her hands off her hips, and lets them fall to her sides. "Look," She says, her face softening with concern, "we're on the border of Pennsylvania, which only gives us a few more states to go before we reach the SHIELD base. We've run into almost no trouble, so I'm sure that you at least can afford a few hours sleep."

"I can sleep sitting up." I croak, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"Why are you so stubborn?" Abby says softly. "This isn't healthy. You need to sleep."

I groan, and pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. Couldn't this kid drop it already? "Get some sleep, kid." I say. "We'll get back on the road before the sun comes up."

"Only if you get some sleep, too." Abby says. "I can take the first watch."

"No, kid."

"You look like you're about to drop dead from exhaustion." She snaps. " You can't protect me if you're sleep deprived. Do you really want that on your conscience?"

 _Geez, this kid knows where to hit a person._

"Alright." I say, holding my hands up in surrender, "But only for an hour."

I stumble over to the bed, and collapse on top of it. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

A hand on my shoulder shakes my awake the next morning. I groan, and rub the sleep out of my eyes. Abby's standing over me, with a look that said, "you're gonna be mad at me, but I'm not sorry."

"You said before dawn." She says, stepping back from the bed. "It's 5:00 in the morning."

I bolt upright, first looking at the alarm clock, then to the girl before me. "Abby!" I snap, scrunching my eyebrows in frustration. "I said to-"

"Believe it or not," She says rolling her eyes, you _did_ needed to sleep. I can't drive, and you almost fell asleep at the wheel last night."

"That's not the point-"

"That's exactly the point." She says, turning back at me. There are some dark circles under her eyes, but other than that she doesn't seem too tired. The kid really did keep watch the whole night. "I have no idea how to get to SHIELD," She continues, "and you do. If you're going to help me, you need to help yourself, too."

 _I don't want to deal with this right now!_

I jump out of the bed in exasperation, and head out the door. "Get in the car while I deal with the manager." I snap, slamming the door behind me.

The man behind the counter is awake, and typing something on the computer. Probably playing solitaire, or something.

He sees me approach, and just as he opens his mouth, I grab his head and slam it against the desk. He's knocked out cold, and I re-position him on his keyboard so it looks like he fell asleep at his post. Then I take his keys, open his office, and help myself to the earnings from the safe. I feel bad taking this man's money, but I'm desperate. I don't like to steal, but I will if I have to.

When I reach for the cash, I notice that my burn is getting inflamed. I haven't changed the bandage in a day, not that I've had much time to, anyway, but this could get worse if I don't take care of it soon. I also notice that the ache that started in my left arm a few days ago had dulled, but now it was awake with a throbbing pain.

 _Jemma would kill me if she saw me right now._ _And_ _nag my ear off, too._

I ignore the ache, ignore the pain, and stuff the cash into my jacket-there was about $500 in the safe, but I could only stand only took what we needed, which was $200. We'd probably be stopping at another place tonight, anyway, so we only needed money for today. Then I leave, locking the office behind me, and putting them back on the desk where the manager was sleeping.

I leave the motel behind, and walk out to the car, not looking back for any reason.

"Do I want to know what you did in the front office?" Abby asks me when I get into the driver's seat.

"That depends.", I say wryly, "Do you want me to answer that question?"

"Nope."Abby says quickly, crossing her arms, "If the cops ask me, I want to be as oblivious as possible."

I snort at her sass, and drive off as quickly and discreetly as possible.

About two hours later, I make a pit stop at a gas station to refill the tank, and send Abby into the store to buy us some food. When I finish filling up the tank, I park the car in front of the store and wait. When she doesn't come back after a while, I decide to go in and check on her. The door jingles as I open it, and a tired employee says, "Good Morning" to me from behind the register. I look through the isles, but don't see Abby anywhere at all. I decide to check for her in the bathroom.

When I open up the grimy door to the Women's Restroom, I hear the sound of panicked breathing from one of the stalls. A smell of burning hair and smoke immediately follows.

 _Oh, no,_ I can't help but think.

I see Abby's dirty sneakers under one of the stalls, and I knock on the door. Her breathing becomes louder, and she whimpers.

"Abby", I hiss, "Abby, let me in. What's wrong? What's happening?"

The door opens, and Abby presses herself against the toilet, trying to get away from me, and I immediately know why she's so scared.

The tips of her hair are lit with small flames, and the veins on her face, especially around her eyes, were glowing with golden light. Her eyes were pure white, and were pupilless. She held her hands into fists, in an effort to staunch the flames that were growing inside of them.

Abby's powers were growing.

"Daisy," She whimpers, "Daisy, it burns! Make it stop! Please!" Her pure white eyes glimmer with fear, and I immediately drop to my knees and take her into my arms to calm her down. She's hot-too hot, but she's scared. I can't let her go, no matter how much it hurts me. She leans into me, and I bite my tongue to avoid hissing at the intense heat on my chest.

"I know, kid," I say, stroking her hair as gently as I can-mostly so that _I_ don't get burned-and do my best to soothe her. "I know it hurts, just let it pass. It'll go away soon, just let it pass."

After a few seconds, Abby finally begins to calm down-and just like that, the fit stops as soon as it starts.

I release Abby, but she still leans on me for a moment longer. She's exhausted from her power surge, I can tell, and no doubt more confused and scared than she was before.

"I thought I had it under control by now." She murmurs.

I grab her shoulders gently, and force her to look at me. "Your powers are growing," I say, "and your body is beginning to bond with them. Believe it or not, fits like that are a good thing, even though it's painful."

Abby's chin dips to the floor, and she looks at her hands, which were unmarked, even though she was holding fire in her hands a few moments ago.

"The development of a gift can be unpredictable sometimes." I tell her, "That's how it works, sometimes, kid."

"But why does it have to hurt so much?" She asks me, tears of frustration in her eyes. "I feel like I'm getting burned, but I don't actually burn. How ironic is that?"

"Every gift comes with a price, kid. The quicker you learn that, the better off you'll be." I get to my feet, and hold out my hand to help her up. Abby grabs my hand-she still feels warmer than a person should be-and shakily rises to her feet. We exit the bathroom, and I buy us donuts and coffee with the money I commandeered from the motel.

"Is that what you did?" Abby asks me when we get back to the car. "Learn about the price of your gift, I mean?"

"Don't pay attention to what I did." I say slowly, carefully. More than anything, I don't want Abby to be like me, or live the life I live. "You'll be better off if you focus on yourself."

We drive off, and for a while, there's only silence in the car. Abby, as usual, is the first to break it. "Daisy?" Abby asks me timidly. "Did I hurt you?" She asks, staring down at her uneaten donut. " When you held me back at the gas station. Did I burn you?"

I fake a small smile for her, and force myself to lie. "No." I say, maybe too quickly.

"You're lying." Abby says coldly. She sounds so disappointed. "I can tell. I've gotten good at telling when people are lying."

Then she turns to the window, and doesn't say anything else to me for most of the day.

The silence returns to the car, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

When I had transitioned, I was isolated, put in a clear box. Cut off from all human contact. The only touch I got during those days was from a doctor in a clean-suite, taking blood to run tests. Deep down, I felt that something inside of me had changed, but I was too afraid to tell anyone. I had no idea what had happened to me in the Kree Temple. All I knew-all that everyone else knew-was that I had made it, and Trip had not. Because I had something he didn't.

The only one who knew about my change was Fitz. He was my confidant, the only person I could trust with this secret, because he knew what it was like to change. He wasn't the person he'd always been, either.

Then my secret came out. I can still hear the sound of the shattering glass as I lost control of my powers.

I was isolated again after that, first to the Cage, then to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. A cabin that was built for situations like mine. For people who had "changed" and couldn't control it-or be controlled themselves.

In all that time, no one offered to talk to me about my gift. They just wanted me to control it. How could I do that when I didn't even know what power I had?

And then the Inhumans found me.

Those words from Gordon felt _so good_ to hear. That I wasn't alone, or a freak. That there were others like me. He offered to take me to a type of Inhuman utopia, a place where people knew what I was going through. Why wouldn't I go with him? He said he could help me. I wanted to be rid of my gift, but I found out, too late, that the effects of terengenesis were permanent. That hurt to hear, but the fact that the others I met wanted to actually _talk_ about my gift instead of sweeping it under the rug, it...helped. I trusted them. I found my parents-my lifelong search had lead me back to them! Finally, I thought I had a family.

And then I found out-the hard way-that I put my trust in the wrong people. My parents-my own mother-used me to get to SHIELD. Me and my father.

She tried to kill me.

She used me.

She used all of us.

From that day on, I swore to myself that I when it was my turn to lead the Inhumans, I would accept _all_ of them. I would be _honest_ with all of them. And that I would never use anyone for my own gain-ever.

They say that every Inhuman was born with a purpose.

If that's true, then...what's mine? What's Abby's? Am I doing the same thing that my mother did to me? Telling only half truths, using others to reach my goals.

Those are just some of the thoughts that bounce through my mind as we got closer and closer to my old home. And with each mile that we put behind us, I feel my heart beat faster and faster.

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sorry for the late update...unfortunately, Writer's Block is a real thing, and I wanted to be sure that I was putting out good quality work before I posted again. I'll try to wrap up the story as soon as I can, since I'll be moving soon, and will be away from my computer for a while. This will be the last calm chapter of the story-the action will pick up from this point, so expect more cliffhangers!**

 **~thrillerartist**


	7. Chapter 6: Be Honest With Yourself

**Chapter 6: Be Honest With Yourself**

 **WARNING: THE BEGINNING OF THIS CHAPTER IS A VIOLENT SCENE OF ATTEMPTED PHYSICAL ASSAULT. IF THIS TRIGGERS ANYTHING FOR ANYONE, SKIP TO THE PARTS WITH THE BEFORE THE PARAGRAPHS.**

* * *

Pennsylvania passes by in the blink of an eye, but by the time we get to Philadelphia, it's almost 10:00 at night. The sun's gone down, and we still have three more states to cross before we can call ourselves "safe". I'm planning on driving through the night to cut down on the amount of driving time. New York traffic will take up most of our time, and I want to get to SHIELD as quickly as we can. Hopefully we can get there by tomorrow, before we run into any more trouble.

I don't know why I'm in such a rush to get there, but I can't escape the feeling that something ominous is looming over our heads. I look over at Abby, and see that she's nodded off to sleep again. She looks so calm when she's asleep. I wish I could sleep that easily.

 _Man, what I'd give to be a teenager again, cause that would mean I could sleep whenever I wanted to._

And then the shit begins to hit the fan. Our tire blows out in the middle of the street, and I pull the car over to the side of the road. A street light flickers as I get out to examine the damage. The right tire on the rear side of the car has deflated so much it looks like a pancake on the site of the road. No way I'm going to be able to fix that. I open the trunk to see if there's a spare tire, but of course, the idiot who actually _owns_ this car doesn't have one. I look at the tire again, and give out a long sigh. There's no way I'll be able to save that.

 _Man, when you really need Fitsimmons-_

A car honks its horn before I can finish that thought. I turn around with a starts and see that two caucasian boys in pickup truck pull over behind me.

The two boys-both about college age-get out of the car. One's wearing a beanie cap, and the other, a dusty leather jacket. "Car trouble, ladies?" The boy in the jacket asks.

"It's fine." I say quickly. I didn't like this situation, and I felt my guard go up immediately. "We're good. I can fix it." But the boys don't listen to me, and come closer to examine the tire. The one in the beanie whistles low and slow, and says "There's no way you're going to be able to fix that, girlie."

"I just called a taxi." I say through gritted teeth. Man, couldn't these boys take the hint? "I'll be fine."

"Too bad," Jacket Boy says smoothly, "cause we'd give you a ride for free."

"Well, not completely free." Beanie Boy says. "We'd like a little something for our troubles, if you know what I mean."

The situation was quickly turning very dangerous. I was ready to punch them out and steal their truck right there, but the sound of a car door opening made me freeze. "Daisy?" Abby asked. I didn't turn around to see her, but I could tell by sound that she'd gotten out of the car. "Daisy, what's going on?"

"Awesome!" Beanie Boy shouts. "Now there's _two_ of 'em!"

I've had enough, and this situation could take a turn for the worst if I don't take action. I quake the mailbox next to me, sending out a warning to them. "Get away from us!" I shout, planting my feet in preparation for a fight. The boys freeze, and stare at me, before they start laughing.

"See", Jacket Boy says, "I _told_ you it was Quake!"

"I owe you fifty bucks, then." Beanie Boy moans. "So, what ya want to do with them?"

"What we were planning on doing anyway!"

All of a sudden, Abby throws something at Beanie Boy, and watches as it shatters against his face. It was an old soda bottle. He grabs his face, and pulls his hands away, noticing the blood that was oozing from his nose.

Jacket Boy turns back to us slowly, and says"Alright, Bitches, now you're dead for sure!"

Beanie Boy recovers quickly, and lunges at Abby.

"Abby!" I shout, and try to get between them, but Jacket Boy grabs me by the throat with one hand, and waves a knife in my face with the other.

"Uh, uh, princess." He says in a silky voice. "Little Abby's gonna have some fun with my bro, here. Meanwhile, you and I get to-"

I don't give him chance to finish, as I clock him in the nose, and takes his knife from his hand. He grabs his nose, and looks at his hands. "Wow, that's a lot of blood." He says. Both his eyes begin to bruise, and I know I've broken his nose. He lunges for me, trying to grab me, but Ikick him in the groin, and punch him in the face again as he falls to his knees. He falls onto the concrete just as I hear Abby scream "Daisy!"

I turn, and see that she's been dragged into the alley by Beanie Boy, who was on top of her. Abby was struggling to get him off of her, but he has both hands in her wrist, and one knee on her chest. I sprint into the alley, and tackles him to get him off of her. "Run, Abby!" I yell, not looking away from Beanie Boy, and punch him in the face repeatedly. But his thick skull seems to be immune to my punches, and I'm starting to think that Jacket Boy was the least of my worries. Beanie Boy's eyes light up with fury, and he grabs my wrist just as I'm about to make contact with his face. He twists my arm to the right, and the momentum causes me to follow the direction. I'm on the ground, and Beanie Boy takes advantage of this to treat my face like a punching bag. Pain erupts across both sides of my face, and through the haze of pain and dizziness, I see him pull out a knife, which he holds it up to my throat. He holds my head down with his free hand, almost tilting it backward to expose my jugular.

"Get ready, sweetheart." He says menacingly, "you're about to meet your maker."

Here's the thing about facing death in a fight: there are moments when you see things, or hear things, that aren't really there. And other times, you do things you don't really think about. In those moments, adrenaline is surging through your entire body, sometimes clouding your memory, other times your judgement. In that one moment where he was holding a knife to my throat, I had so much adrenaline coursing through my veins, that I couldn't even deny the thought that was going through my head when he said, "Get ready, sweetheart, you're about to meet your maker. "

"Not like I'll be missed down here." I mutter uncontrolably. To be honest, I'd been waiting for a moment like this since I ran away from SHIELD. In the face of death, you either accept it, or beg for mercy...and I didn't think I was deserving of mercy these days.

Beanie Boy's eyes flicker at my words, and that's when he notices the burns on my hands. He traces my face with the tip of his blade. "Wow." He says. "You hate yourself more than I do, don't you?"

I can't say anything, as much as I want to. The words won't come, and I wonder if it's because I know it's true.

Then, just as he's about to plunge the knife into my eye, I hear Abby shout, "Leave. Her. Alone!".

Beanie Boy's hair immediately catches fire, and he drops the knife, falling on all fours. He starts rolling around in the alley in an effort to put his own head out. If I weren't so confused, I might find it funny. There's an intense glow coming from the entrance of the alley. I struggle to sit up, and it's only when I do, do I realize that the glow was coming from _Abby_.

She stood, holding fire in both her hands, and didn't seem to mind that the flames were licking up her forearms. Her hair, usually dark brown, was replaced with flames of fire, her normally brown eyes were replace with pure white heat. The veins surrounding her eyes were glowing with golden light, and it made me wonder: _If she were to be cut right now, would she bleed fire?_

Then the fire went away, leaving Abby without a scratch or scorch mark on her clothes. There's a thumping noise, and I can tell that Beanie Boy has probably passed out from the shock and pain of his head becoming a lighter. The smell of his burning flesh and hair was enough to make me gag.

I struggle to get to my feet, and Abby comes to my side to help me get up. "Daisy?" She asks, obviously worried, "Are you okay?"

"I've had worse, kid." I say as I spit blood from my mouth. I look at the girl beside me, obvious concern in her eyes. But I force myself to shrug off her worries when I hear the distant sound of sirens coming closer and closer.

"Let's get out of here." I grunt, nodding my head towards the boys' truck (since we couldn't drive our, with it having a pancake for a tire, and all). Abby, knowing the drill by this point, gets in the passenger side, and together we drive away into the night.

Around midnight, we just cross into New Jersey. The adrenaline from the fight has all worn off, and I can't help the exhaustion that's overtaken me. I find myself nodding off at the wheel, and that's when I decide the best decision right now would be stop somewhere and rest for a few hours. Abby's leaned her head against the window, eyes close, but there isn't a doubt in my mind that she's not asleep. _Nobody_ goes through something like that, and is able to sleep through the night.

On the road, I see a sign that says, "St. Mary's Catholic Church", and decide that it's as good a place as any to stop for a while. Church's wouldn't think twice about two random people coming and going in the span of a few hours. I knew that some churches even kept their doors open at night so that homeless people could have a place to sleep. I hoped this was one of them.

I pull into the church parking lot, and nudge Abby to wake up. She bolts right up, thus confirming my suspicion that she was never really asleep. "We're stopping here for a while." I say tiredly, getting out of the car before she can say anything else. Luckily for us, the church doors _do_ open, and lucky for us, there's a little lobby area with couches and chairs. I guess they must be for congregants who get to church early, or something. I sit down in one of them, and turn around so that my head can rest against the wall. It's not too comfortable, but I'll take what I can get if it means I can sleep. Abby sits down right next to me, and leans her head on my shoulder. I want to protest, but Abby's asleep before I can tell her to get off. Feeling the girl relax against my side makes my heart warm a little. It feels good knowing that she trusts me.

 _What are you doing, Daisy?!_ I ask myself. _You're planning on leaving this girl as soon as you can get her to SHIELD. What type of game are you playing, toying with her emotions like this?! Getting her to trust you just before you leave her-that's just CRUEL!_

I don't want to let myself care too much about the girl I saved, but in moment like this, when both our guards are down, I can't help but wonder, _Can I really leave her?_

That's the one thought that haunts me as I collapse into sleep.

I awake to the sound of panicked breathing, and the scent of burning fabric. I immediately recognize that Abby's having another fit.

 _Damn!_ I think, _I should've known that after last night, it was only a matter of time before her powers grew again!_

Abby's currently cornered herself in the room. Her hair was once again replaced with fire, her eyes with heat, but this time it wasn't just her arms that were on fire. It was her _entire_ body. Everything from her toes to her ears was covered in angry red and orange flames. I know that what I did next wasn't too smart, but Abby was terrified. She's never burned this much before, she was practically having a panic attack. The only thing I could think of was to put my hand on her shoulder, my other on her thigh, and say the same words May had said to me when I'd lost control. "Just like we've practiced, Abby." I say calmly, soothingly, "Take a deep breath. Listen to my voice, now let it out. Focus on your heartbeat, everything you're feeling, just let it fade into the background. It's all noise in the background. That's it, Abby, keep going. Stay focused." I repeat that sentence like a mantra, until Abby's fire suddenly recedes, leaving only the girl she was before it started. Amazingly, there isn't a burn or a scorch mark on her. I can't say that same about me, though. Both my hands were blistered and burned, so much so that they looked like octopus tentacles.

I catch Abby staring at my hands, and immediately tell her, "I'm okay."

"No, you're not!" Abby says, frustration in her eyes. "Stop _lying_ to me, Daisy! You say you don't hurt, but I've been around enough liars to recognize the signs of one!" Abby gets up in a huff, and storms out the church doors. I follow after her, and feel relieved to know that she's walked back to the car. I get in the driver's side, but don't start the car.

"Abby-"

"Save it." She says. "I get it, you don't want me to worry, but I do. You're pretty reckless, and I get scared when you do things like that."

I sigh, and start the car. We were up anyway, might as well finish the trip. "It's only five more hours until we hit Massachusetts." I say. "The base is on the coast-"

"Daisy, be honest with me. _Please_." Abby says, crossing her arms and looking at me.

"Of course." I say, taking my hands off of the wheel. They stung like crazy, but I wasn't about to start driving with my feet. I look her in the eyes, and see her resolve and determination and...hurt?

"You hate yourself, don't you?" She asks me, and that one sentence almost gives me a hernia from how much my stomach dropped.

"I..." I stammer. This kid was perceptive, I'll give her that much, but that question just came right out to the blue.

But what hurt me the most, was that it was true.

"Abby, its...complicated." I finally say.

"You're suicidal." She says

"What? I am not!"

"Oh really? And on top of that, you weren't afraid to get treated like a punching dummy with those two guys back in Philly!"

"I saved you!" I argued, "That's different, and you know it!"

"How?" Abby questions. " You _never_ let go of me when I burn you. You stay up for _days_ on end _without_ sleep, you haven't taken care of yourself in who knows how long. You're burn-the one from _before_ tonight- is infected, and you know it!"

I'm losing control of the situation. But more important is, I think I'm losing Abby.

"Kid, I've-"

"You're gonna off yourself, aren't you?"

"Abby-"

"I've seen the signs before, in previous homes. You check all the boxes. You dodge questions. You're a glutton for pain, and you're _way_ more concerned with me than yourself. It's like you think you don't matter, because you don't think you have a future, is that right?"

"Abby-"

"And you're not even trying to deny it." Abby chokes.

"Abby", I start. But what else can I say? "I'm sorry, kid."

Abby's words got to me, as much as I try to not let them. She's right, and she knows it. Has she been studying my behavior this entire time?

The silence that follows our argument is deafening, so much so that I turn the radio on. Cheesy country music blasts the speakers, but at least it's something to listen to. Abby's so mad at me that she unbuckles her seatbelt, and moves into the backseat. I've hurt her, I know, and I want to make it right. I _want_ to stay at SHIELD with her-I want that so much that it hurts-but I can't. Everything, every _one_ there reminds me of what I did, of who I betrayed. The emotions I toyed with, the hurt and death and destruction I caused. I can't do that to them again. I can guarantee that something like that _could_ happen again, because pain and destruction seem to follow me everywhere I go. I can't take that to the people I love the most...least of all Abby.

I'm so lost in my own self absorbed thoughts that I don't notice the car that's following us.

Until it rams us from behind.

 **To be continued...**

* * *

 **Authors note: Ha Ha! Told you there would be more cliffhangers in the chapters to come! Now that I've gotten into the groove of writing again, I'm pleased to announce that my next chapter should be up by August 20th. Special shoutout to those who reviewed and commented on this story, and my good friend afangirlofsorts for helping me with this chapter! I know that some of you may ask why Daisy didn't just blast those two boys once things started going south, but the whole point is that she's mentally and physically exhausted, and isn't thinking as clearly as she usually is.**

 **Keep up with the story, because things are about to get REALLY interesting...**

 **Until next time!**

 **-thrillerartist**


	8. Chapter 7: You Did Everything You Could

**Chapter 7: You Did Everything You Could (Part 1)**

 **-Daisy-**

I'm so lost in my own depressing thoughts, that I don't notice the car that's been following us for the past three blocks. I don't notice how close the car gets to us, and I don't notice how it speeds up.

I don't notice any of those things until it's too late.

I floor the gas to try and get away, but the car takes the chance, and speeds up until it's parallel to us. The passenger rolls down their window, exposing two men in snarling dog masks.

The Watchdogs had finally found us.

The passenger Watchdog rolls up his window before the car steers directly into us, forcing us off of the road. I take my foot off of the gas, and hit the brakes, but it 's too late. The car rolls down a small hill until we're stopped by a group of trees. When I turn to look to may right, I see that a branch has skewered through the passenger side window. I remember that Abby had moved to the backseat, and I'm glad that she did.

"What the _HELL_ just happened?" Abby groans, poking her head out from the back. A small trickle of blood trails down from her hairline, and I feel well of anger rise up in me. Anger, and fear. "Get down!" I shout, and throw both my hands out to shatter the broken windshield, creating an opening for us. "Get up, kid!" I shout as I quake my jammed seatbelt so it releases me. "We have to go, NOW!"

I grab Abby by her collar, and force her out through the windshield, following behind her as quickly as possible. Then, once we're back on the ground, I grab her hand, and make a brake for the trees. We were in a part of the highway that was still surrounded by wooded areas, so there were no shortages of places to hide. Keeping a firm grip on Abby, ignoring the stinging pain in my burned hands, I drag her through the woods. It was still the middle the night-it might have even been early morning now-so the only light we had to guide us was from the moon and stars. just ahead of us, it slopes downwards almost immediately. However, tree roots and large boulders have kept some of the dirt in place, creating an almost crater in the ground.

If that wasn't a good enough place to hide, I don't know what was.

I help Abby get into the crater created by roots, jumping in after her. We plaster our backs to the sides of the hole, and listen for the sound of our pursuers. After a few agonizing moments of silence, I lean my head against the dirt wall, and close my eyes. We'd only be able to stay here for a few more moments before we had to run again. I open my eyes, staring up at the night sky. The treetops blocked the sky in a few places, but I could see it clearly from where we were. I see a cluster of stars surrounded by a black sky, a moon in the corner of it all, almost as if it's watching us. And then I see something familiar. A blur appears in the sky, and a flash of white comes out of it. I know that there's only two things that could be.

One is an alien spaceship-wouldn't really surprise me if it was. The other, is that its the cloaked Zephyr, and that white flash was the escape pod that Fitz designed. I'm hoping that it's the latter.

 _Please, let it be them and not another alien attack._

I don't want to get my own hopes up, but right now, I think that hope is all I have to go on. I have to trust that my team is out there somewhere, looking for us.

"Listen to me, Abby." I say, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to look me in the eyes. "In a few seconds, those guys are gonna come up this way, and find us. Before that can happen, I need you to do something for me. I need you to run. There are people out there who can help us. Did you see that thing in the sky a few seconds ago? I'm pretty sure that's my old team. I don't know how they found us, but they did, and that's all that matters. So you need to run, get as far away from here as you can. Once you do, send up a signal flare, and let them know where you are."

"I've never done anything like that!" Abby says, sounding panicked. "And what do you mean 'me'. You're coming too, aren't you?"

I take a deep breath, preparing myself to tell her the one thing I didn't want to. "No," I say carefully, "While you get help, I'm going to hold off the Watchdogs."

"What?" Abby hisses. "Daisy, you can't do that, there's too many of them!"

"Look, kid," I argue, gripping her shoulders tightly, "someone has to hold them back, and it sure as hell can't be you."

Abby grips my wrists, and forces them off her shoulders. "I'm not leaving you!" She snaps. "You said that we'd see this through together!"

I sigh. I was afraid she'd say that. In fact, I _knew_ she would say that. "Kid," I say, my voice sounding sad and desperate, "I'm not gonna lie...I care about you, and I'll do anything to help you. I know I promised you early on that I would always protect you, to never leave you alone until you were safe, but this is something I have to do alone. You don't know how to fight, I do. SHIELD is close, so when you get far away enough, throw up a signal flare, and they'll come find you."

Abby looks away, and through the moonlight, I see a lone tear trickle down her cheek. She looks so tired and careworn. She's cried so many times on this trip, I didn't think she had any left. "No." She croaks. "No, I can't do it!"

"Yes, you can." I say, putting my hand on her cheek, an almost motherly gesture. "You're one of the strongest kids I've ever met. You can do this. I believe you can."

Abby closes her eyes, and whispers, "Promise me."

 _Does she...does she think that this is goodbye?_

"Promise you what, kid?" I ask.

"Promise me that you're not gonna be stupid." She finally meets my eyes, and inside of them, I see the familiar determination that she's had whenever she nagged me or yelled at me. It was a look I'd never realized I'd missed until now. "Promise me that you're not gonna do anything that'll get you killed." She begs.

I bow my head. "I-"

"Promise!" Abby snaps. Her fists are clenched, and I can see a trace amount of light spilling from between her fingertips.

"I..." What should I say? I can't guarantee that I'll come back from this...but I want to...And right now, maybe that's enough. "I promise, kid." I say calmly. "I'm not gonna die on you. I'm not gonna leave you alone. Now GO!"

Abby nods, looking as if she doesn't totally believe me, before she turns away and climbs out of the little crater, before she runs into the cover of night. I follow her, and run in the opposite direction, to try and lead theWatchdogs away from her trail. I run until I reach a clearing, and that's where I stop. Waiting, I clench my fists, and send a large quake into the trees. The trunks snap like twigs, and blast blows leaves all over the place. There's an ominous feel to the air, and I know that this could very well be the end for me. If I wasn't careful, I would end up breaking my promise.

I want to live through this. But whatever happens to me, at least I know that Abby will be safe. My team is close. I can feel it.

If this was where I died, at least I could rest easy that Abby would be safe with them.

I sense a rumbling in the ground, most likely running footsteps, and I prepare myself to fight. Five Watchdogs appear from the tree-line, and they spot me in the middle of the clearing. Together, they stalk towards me like a pack of predators. All of their movements were slow and menacing, and I knew that this would be a fight to the death. They didn't want me alive like they did Abby back in Ohio. This was a revenge mission, and they would make sure that I was out of their way for good if given the chance.

One of the Watchdogs-the leader, I presumed-held up his hand, and the other four halted. The lead Dog removes his mask, exposing a familiar bruised face. My heart sinks in despair and anger.

"Ready to brawl, Princess?"

It was the Jacket Boy from Philadelphia.

* * *

 **-Abby-**

I run through the trees and bushes as fast as my legs will carry me. The moonlight bounces off of the trees, illuminating my path. I run in a zigzag pattern, to make my trail harder to follow. My lungs burn, and the muscles in my legs tire quickly. My exhaustion is taking over my body, but I cannot afford to stop. Soon, however, a stitch takes over my entire right side, making it hard and painful to breathe. I duck behind a tree in order to catch my breath, gasping and gulping air like a fish out of water.

That's the place where I first heard them.

Voices.

"...location...should be here."

"...vibrations...small earthquakes...

"...It's Daisy!"

I could not tell where the voices were coming from, it seemed that they were all around me. I knew from nature shows that in mountainous areas, sound could bounce off the differing altitudes. Most likely, the voices I was hearing were no more than echoes bouncing off the trees and hills. I know that Daisy said her friends were nearby, that to find them I'd have to send up a signal flare using my new powers...but I was scared. I was scared that instead of attracting the attention of her friends, I'd only end up attracting the Watchdogs. My hands shook, and adrenaline pulsed through me. I knew what I had to do, what I was _supposed_ to do. The fire had been inside of me since that fateful night where I changed forever. It wanted to escape from me, to burn everything in its path. It was an intense fire, like I had an oven turned up all the way inside of me. With every movement I made, I could feel the heat. When my powers surged, I could see the light of the inferno through my skin. I kept it all inside of me, trying to contain it the best I could. I had seen what fire can do to forests, to homes...to people. I hated my powers. Fire was nothing but destruction incarnated.

But now, I had to use that destruction to call for help. I gathered my courage, and tap into the fire that was inside of me. I'm scared that I'll lose control, but in my mind's eye, I imagine it pouring from my hands. I close my eyes, and hold my hands up to the sky. When I open them, I see the fire spraying out of them like water from a garden hose. It gives off intense heat, as well as bright light. I streams into the sky, singeing some of the trees on it's way. Then the embers land on the trees, and turns into flame. Soon, the trees looked like giant tiki torches. I threw up my signal, but in the process, I have also put the forest-as well as the people in it-at risk.

Suddenly, two strong arms grab me from behind in a bear-hug. Instinctively, I grab his arms to try and pull him off of me, but he lets go from my touch. I turn around and back away, seeing that my attacker is a giant man in a dog mask. A Watchdog had followed me after all.

He's slapping his arms, which had caught fire from when I put my hands on him. The fire I caused from my signal was spreading faster and faster, catching more and more trees on fire. Soon, we're both surrounded by flames, bathing us in orange light.

The Watchdog's hand goes to his hip, pulls out a gun, and points it at me. I freeze out of fear.

 _Is this where I die?_

"You go against every law of nature." The Watchdog growls, and then he pulls the trigger. I turn my face away, and throw my hands up to block the shot-an effort I believed to be in vain. I was expecting pain, I was expecting to bleed, to black out. To die. But nothing happened.

When I turn back to the Watchdog, in front of me is a wall of fire, giving off so much heat that I've begin to sweat. When I feel that I'm no longer in danger of being shot, the fire-wall vanishes, exposing a very shocked Watchdog.

He drops the gun by his feet. "You really are a freak, aren't you?" He says, stepping back in fear.

I look down at myself, and see that my arms were alight with red and orange flames. When I looked back up, I could see the heat radiating off of the man's body. The man who stands before me is now a figure of purple and orange and red. My hands were pure red heat, and golden veins snaked up my arms all the way to my elbows. I must've looked like a real monster, but I didn't want to be one.

And that's when I realized: I was only a monster if I acted like one.

I clench my fists, opening them again, and relax. I feel my fire die down a little, into a more controllable level. My hands were still red, but the flames that licked up my fingers and arms were no longer angry, but gentle. Instead of pure heat, it gave off warmth and light. It was still hot, but not in a way that made it anything but a little uncomfortable.

"I'm not a freak." I said, sounding confident for the first time in days. "I'm an Inhuman." Then I press my palms together in concentration, and push them out again. A golden fireball flies at the man at the speed of light, hitting him in the chest before exploding into flames all over his clothes. He falls to the ground to try and put himself out, but it's no use. I will the fire not to be put out. It's almost as if the fire is an extension of myself, and I can will it to do whatever I want. And I don't want this man to get off so easily. I knew that if he had the chance, he would gladly kill me in cold blood.

He drops to the ground immediately, rolling back and forth to try and extinguish the flames. He screamed and writhed in fear and pain, and my heart clenched at the sight and sound of another person's agony. I wanted his suffering to stop. As much as I knew he wanted to kill me, I still valued his life. I would not prove to him that I was a monster by killing him. I will the fire to cease, and just as quickly as they spread, the flames go out-not just on his clothes, but on the forest as well. Quiet takes over the burned forest, and the man is left in a pile on the ground, breathing heavily with pain and anger.

"You can pretend", he gasped, "and deny all you like. It doesn't change the fact that you're a monster inside."

I step closer to him. The fire had left his skin blistered and scorched, so he looked like The Opera Ghost from _Phantom of the Opera._ "I am NOT a monster." I say gently. "You are."

I smiles eerily through his pain, and says "Only monsters can burn people with their bare hands. Only monsters can have glowing white eyes, and veins that glow in the dark. Only monsters can hold fire in their hands without getting burned, and have a bonfire as their hair. You're an abomination, and abominations need to be killed." He laughs, which soon turns into coughs, before he regains his composure, and says "Just like we killed _her_. I bet my boys have finished their job by now." Then his eyes roll back into his head, and he collapses into silence.

His words sent a shiver of fear through me. _Just like we killed_ her.

 _Oh, no, Daisy!_

I turn to run back from where we came, but I stop. The man on the ground was in pain, suffering. He was in need of medical attention. I valued his life, even thought he didn't feel the same for me. So I stayed with him, making sure he didn't die. I don't know what I would do if he ended up dying from wounds that I caused. I couldn't help the crushing guilt that crashed into me, because by staying with this man, I was leaving Daisy to possible die at the hands of the Watchdogs. What type of person was I, choosing the life of a murderer over the life of a friend?

Suddenly, I hear the same voices I heard before, only this time, they sound closer. _Much_ closer. I light a flame in my hand, creating a beacon of orange light. Then, through the trees, I see four bodies emerge. First is a middle-aged man, followed by a young woman, a big black guy, and an middle-aged Asian woman. They have their guns out and ready to fire. I close my fist, silencing my hand-held fire. I don't wait for them to do or say anything else before I run. I turn and sprint back the way I came, only halting for a second to shout "Help him! I'm going back for my friend!" before taking off again.

Their voices are behind me, followed by the sounds of twigs snapping and leaves crunching underfoot.

"Fitz!" A British voice shouts, "Fitz, we need a Med-Evac!"

"May, follow her!" A man's voice orders

"Where's Daisy!" A gruffer voice yells.

I don't wait to listen, and I don't wait to answer. I retrace my steps, hoping that I can make it back in time to save the woman who saved my life.

 **End of Part One...** **To be continued...**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Yes, I just did that. I wanted to do a two part chapter, because this is essential to the plot line. In stressful situations, I tend to believe that that's when our thoughts can become clear for the first time. Stress causes our brains to think things through at hyper-speed (or at least, that's always been my experience). Sometimes, the thoughts we have are the things we needed to learn, and other times, they're just chicken scratch created by an over-stressed mind.**

 **Anyway, I gave this chapter its title, because sometimes, there are just things in the past that we cannot change. We can try and think through things, but there is really no use in dwelling on things that have already happened. I called this chapter "You Did Everything You Could", because sometimes we're faced with situations where there is no right or wrong answer. There is no fairy tail solution. Sometimes, life is lived in the gray area.**

 **And...I separated the chapters into two parts because I'm also secretly evil! MWAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

 **The next chapter should be up within the next two weeks.**

 **-thrillerartist**


	9. Chapter 8: You Did Everything You Could

**Chapter 8: You Did Everything You Could (Part 2)**

* * *

 **-Daisy-**

I watch as a group of five Watchdogs begin to form a circle around me, those stupid masks keeping their faces hidden from me, the cowards. There is nothing more shameful to me than hiding your face from your enemy, hiding who you are.

Then again, I wasn't much better the past few months. I was a coward too, running from what I was afraid of.

But not anymore. I'm done running.

"What're you waiting for?" I snap, as they close their circle and begin to closing in. "An invitation?"

That's all it takes for them to spring their attack. One of them lunges towards me, and I quake his face. He flies back into a tree, shaking a few pinecones loose as he crashes into it. Another tries to avoid my quakes by grabbing me in a bear hug, but I lean forward, and the momentum flips him over on his back. I let my right hand hover over his ribs, and just as I'm about to quake him, I stop. For a minute, all I can see is Mack lying there on the ground, not an enemy. All I see is Mack, screaming in agonizing pain as I fracture his ribcage.

A hit from behind-ironically-brings me back into reality. I'm knocked down onto my side, and a boot slams into my stomach repeatedly. I grab the boot with my hands, and twist it until the body attached to it falls down before I get to me feet as quickly as I can. I regain my fighting stance, breathing heavily from exertion. Another Watchdog charges me, and as I throw a punch to defend myself, he grabs my arm and throws me onto my back. The wind is knocked out of me, and for a few moments, all I can to is lay there and gasp for air.

A moment is all it takes for the situation to go from bad to worse.

All five of them surround me, and begin kicking and punching me as I lay on the ground. It is in that moment that I begin to realize what I had done to myself by forcing Abby to run. I left myself vulnerable. My fighting skills were rusty, and I wasn't in a good state mentally, which would mean I'd be less likely to sense attacks coming. I wasn't able to anticipate my enemy's next move as quickly as I normally did.

 _May would be so disappointed in me right_ _now._

I need to get them off of me. I rolled over onto my stomach, and pushed myself up with my hands. A foot slams in between my shoulder blades, and forces me onto the ground. I resist the push, and make myself to get to my knees. The barrage of fists and feet has stopped momentarily. When I lift my head, I see that the Watchdogs have retreated a few steps back. I force myself to my feet, and as I do, I can sense their hesitation like humidity in the air. They don't know what I will do next, and that unpredictability scares them.

I force myself to bring my hands up in a fighting position."Let's go." I gasp. "I can do this all day."

They charge me again, and as they move, I throw my hands out in front of me. Suddenly, I hear a loud BANG!, followed by a flash of white-hot pain in my left bicep. It's a sensation that I've felt too many times before.

I have just been shot.

The bullet has torn through the muscles of my upper arm. I can tell, because now I can barely move it at all. With the little range of motion I had, I force my left arm up and spread my fingers out. I quake the ground where my opponents stand, forcing as much power as I can into it. The ground trembles, the grass moves in sync with my frequency waves. Trees as tall as houses shatter into fragments and toothpicks. Some branches shoot out towards the Watchdogs, impaling them, while others flew into the forest. My right arm erupts with pain from the inside. I hear bones crack, and my arm falls limp at my side. I look down, and see bruises forming up and down my arm, starting at my fingers. My arm behind to swell a little, and when I try to move my fingers, I nearly throw up from the shock of stabbing pain. When I look up from my injured arm, I stand alone, breathing heavily, and fully view the carnage. The scene is much similar to when I first got my powers. The field is flattened, trees torn down, bodies lying in heaps of limbs and blood. It's just like before Gordon-

 _BANG!_

Shock and pain erupts across my right leg, and I collapse to the ground. I turn around, and see blood oozing out of my thigh and calf. When I try to stand, I collapse again, finding that my leg will not support my weight. I sink to the ground, panting in pain and fear. If I was shot, there is one more enemy out there. One more Watchdog that I had not put down.

"Come out and fight me, you coward." I call weakly, though I try to sound menacing.

A dark chuckle emanates from the trees behind me. "They all said that you were a feisty one. I should know from my own experience that you're very difficult to pin."

A hand grabs my injured arm, and I swing with my right. He presses his fingers into my bullet wound, and I scream in agony, and fall to the ground. He towers over me, and I can see hunger in his eyes-hunger for my blood. He holds my injured arm in his left hand, and a loaded gun in his right. Gently, he presses the pistol to my temple, and I freeze. Then he whips me with the gun, and I feel my left eye begin to swell shut. Slowly, he traces my face with his gun, from my swelling brow, to my cheek, then down my neck.

"I've been waiting a _long_ time for this." Jacket Boy says softly, almost gently, as if he were talking to a child. "Ever since you stole that little freak from our base back in Ohio, I've had my eyes on you. We all have. Every man in my crew wants you dead, but I called dibs on you after that little stunt you pulled on my brother and I in Philly. Ever since you left us burned and beaten in that alley, I've wanted to hear the sweet sounds of your screams."

When his words register through the fog of pain that clouds my mind, I feel my stomach drop. All that I can think right now, is that this was probably the end for me. He would torture me in this field, surrounded by his dead and wounded men.

I feel the gun trace down from my neck, over my chest, until it finally hovers over my stomach. I feel the cold tip of the gun press into my side, right above my naval. I hear the _BANG!_ , and I feel searing pain of the bullet tearing through me. Blood leaks out of me, and I become weaker in the process. But all that I can think about right now is the promise I made to Abby. I remember the fire in her eyes as she made me swear to her that I wasn't going to die. That I wasn't going to leave her to face her problems alone.

 _Will I break another promise tonight?_ , I wonder.

"C'mon, Quake." Jacket Boy taunts, digging the pistol into my gut wound. "Scream for me." He shoots me again in the same spot, and I bite my tongue to keep myself from satisfying his desire to hear me scream. I refuse to bend to his will, even if it's the last thing I do. My stubbornness has been one of my greatest attributes, but also one of my greatest faults. It's a trait that I've noticed Abby had as well.

 _I hope I can teach her how to use it for good, if I get out of this,_ I thought.

And that's when I realize a truth that I've never realized until now. I was thinking about the future. I was thinking about making it through this. I was planning on keeping my promise to the girl I had risked my life to keep safe.

The truth hits me...but too late.

 _I don't want to die!,_ I scream mentally.

Jacket Boy is staring at me in rage, keeping his gun to my wound. He presses harder and harder on it in an effort to force me to show my pain. I refuse to open my mouth, no matter how much I want to voice my agony. I want to scream, to bawl, to wake the whole world to my pain. But I refuse to let myself succumb to this dog's wishes. I refuse to scream, but that doesn't stop the tears from running down the sides of my face. However, they aren't tears of fear, or of pain, but sadness. They are tears of me knowing that I will soon be breaking another promise. That I will not see this through to the end, no matter how much I might want to.

Most of all, I won't be able to protect Abby anymore. Sweet, scared Abby, who for all her nagging and questions and tears, has been the best thing to have happened to me since Lincoln's death.

 _Abby...Kid...I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

My silent apology reaches no one. Tears I had been unable to shed for the longest time leak out of my eyes like a faucet.

 _I'm sorry._

The gun lifts up from my gut wound, and appears above my head. Jacket Boy looks disappointed that I didn't scream for him. I want to feel pleased that I got to mess with the Watchdogs even when I was facing death, but I can't find the pleasure in it. All I feel is heartbroken, and disappointed in myself at having broken yet another promise. Even with the gun in my face, the only thought I can form is, _I'm sorry._

"Oh, well." Jacket Boy sighs in disappointment at my silent refusal. "At least I got to see you cry." I hear a bullet click into place, and close my eyes, preparing for my death.

But it never comes for me.

Instead I hear a scream of pain, and feel a wave of intense heat. When I open my eyes-well, _eye_ , since the other is swollen shut now-I see Jacket Boy's lit up like a bonfire. His agonizing screams, and the smell of his burning flesh, nauseate me. He falls to the ground beside me and rolls away, do doubt also setting the field on fire. I feel a presence on my left, and force myself to turn my head, since my eye's swelled shut on that side. Beside me, down on her knees, hands hovering just above my stomach, is Abby.

She came back.

"No", Abby chokes, eyes already welling up, "No. Please, no."

She presses both of her hands down on my stomach, while she yells, "Help! Somebody, help us!"

I groan when her hands press down on my wounds. Abby looks at me and says in a panicked voice, "It's okay, everything's going to be alright." She reminds me of Jemma in that moment. She's a terrible liar. I don't see a situation right now where I make it out of this "alright". Even if I live, I will always have a memory of this fight marking my body. I can't even feel my right arm now, something I know is not a good sign.

However, when I look at Abby with my one good eye, I can't help but smile. She's okay, and that's all that matters to me.

"Did you...meet my team?" I gasp. It's hard to breath properly with her hands pressing down on my stomach like this.

"Sorta." Abby says through tears. "It was kinda in passing."

I laugh, an immediately regret it. A stabbing ache courses through me, and then cough up blood.

 _Well, this is a familiar situation,_ I thought, remembering when I was bleeding out from a gut shot in Italy. I remember the hopelessness, the fear of dying alone. Of not knowing if my team would find me in time.

This time though, I'm not alone. And if this is where I would die, I can rest easy knowing that my team would take care of Abby.

Suddenly, Abby turns around in shock. A figure appears behind her, and Abby lights a fire in her palm, letting it die out. It must be someone she recognizes.

The figure crouches low, and I finally get a clear view of their face. A face I've come to associate with as close as family as I would ever get.

"Hey, May." I moan. Sweat is pouring down my face from the effort to stay awake. I know that I'm not supposed to go to sleep now, but it's becoming more and more tempting with each passing second. If I sleep, the pain will go away for a while. But if I do go to sleep now, I may never wake up.

May holsters her weapon, and grabs my left with hers. "Squeeze my hand, Daisy." She orders me. My arm hurts from the bullet wound, but I force my fingers to wrap around hers. "That's it, Daisy", May encourages, "keep squeezing."

I take a labored breath, and swallow the lump that's begun to grow in my throat. "Sorry I'm...late coming back."

"It's okay." May says gently. "It's okay, now. We were hoping that when you came back, you'd be in better shape. Unfortunately, that was clearly too much to ask."

"Old habits..." I take a deep breath, "die hard." Then I nod my head towards the girl trying to prevent me from bleeding out. "This is Abby." I say, nodding towards the crying girl. "She's a new Inhuman."

"I just changed a couple weeks ago." Abby says. "Daisy saved me. She said you could help me, so she was taking me to you guys."

May squeezes my hand again, and I try to squeeze back, but I'm becoming weaker very quickly. All I can manage is to curl my fingers around her hand.

"May." I gasp before coughing and spitting blood again. "I'm sorry I ran."

"We forgive you." She says gently, squeezing my hand again. I don't squeeze back this time. "Squeeze my hand, Daisy." I hear her say, but I'm not paying attention to her anymore. There's a light coming from above her shoulder, and it's blinding. It hurts my eyes, but it also makes me feel...safe.

And then a third figure appears behind May. A figure that, until now, I could only see in my heartbroken dreams. A face that I yearned to see again more than anything in the world. A man that I loved and whose suffering I wanted to spare, but couldn't. Because he died so that I could live.

"Lincoln." I mumble. "Hey there, Daisy." Lincoln smiles sadly. He leans down and cups my face in his hand, tracing circles around my cheek. I feel a lone tear fall from my eye and run through his fingers.

He looks just as I remembered him. Tall, lean, a small trace of facial hair surrounding the lower half of his face. His eyes are bright, and he's surrounded by gentle golden light. It's not light like you'd get from a lamp. It's more like from a campfire, warm and inviting, illuminating everything in its path.

Something's squeezing my hand. I want to squeeze back, but I can't find the strength to even keep my eyes open anymore. I hear muddled voices. They sound scared, panicked. It makes me sad, but I can't remember why right now. I'm so, so tired, and all I want to do is go into the light and sleep. But there's something that's holding me back, something I feel I have to do before I can follow the light.

"Lincoln," I ask, "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to tell you", he says gently, "that I never blamed you for anything you did. It wasn't your fault."

I let myself sob, and lean into his touch. "I'm sorry", I cry. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I betrayed you. I'm sorry-"

"You never had anything to apologize for." He says gently. "But all you need to hear right now, is that you did everything you could for me. You did the best you could with what you were given. I want you to know, that I forgive you. I forgive you, so you need to forgive yourself now, okay?"

"I...I can't." I cry into his hand. "I want to, but I can't let myself."

"It doesn't have to be right now." Lincoln soothes. "But you need to, eventually. Daisy, I'm not gonna lie...you're hurt pretty badly. So, if you want to go now, that it's okay. But if you want to stay, that's okay, too. It's okay if you want to keep living, Daisy. Just know that no matter what choice you make, I will be with you. No matter what."

I look into his eyes. They're still as bright blue as I remember them. I never thought I'd see those eyes again. It makes my heart ache so much just seeing them, that I want to give in just so that I can see those eyes anytime I want to.

There's a faint, burning pressure on my stomach. Something rancid-smelling fills my nose, but none of that matters in this moment. My one greatest regret is telling me that it's okay for me to keep living, if I wanted to. At first, I want to go with him into the light. Only, when I close my eyes, Abby's face flashes through my memory, followed by May and Coulson, Jemma and Fitz, Mack and Elena. If I decided to go with Lincoln now, I would be leaving things unfinished here. There are some loose ends I need to tie up. A promise that I had intended to keep.

I never wanted to hurt the people I loved.

But sometimes, we never get what we want.

I know what I need to do now.

Lincoln smiles sadly, leans close to me, and presses his lips gently against mine. I'd forgotten what he tasted like. The tears came faster from my eyes, and when he pulled away from me, all that was left was the memory of his lips. "I'm glad." He say, smiling proudly. "And I am so, so proud of you. I'll see you soon, Daisy." He says, before his light fades, and he disappears from me once again.

Then, everything fades to black

 **To Be Continued...**

* * *

 **Author's Note: So...yeah, I just did that. Does Daisy survive, or does she die? I'M NOT TELLING! HAHAHAHAHA!**

 **I'm glad with how this chapter had turned out. I've been suffering from some bad writer's block lately, but I'm glad I was able to write this once it got started. Don't be afraid to post reviews or comments, I always appreciate others' perspective!**

 **Anyway, the next chapter of this story will be up within the next two weeks! Not trying to torture people, just trying to give myself a realistic deadline (and...maybe torture you a little).**

 **See you readers in two weeks!**

 **~thrillerartist**


	10. Chapter 9: Accept Your New Purpose

**Chapter 9: Accept Your New Purpose**

 **-Abby-**

I stand alone in the room, listening to the eerie sound of heart monitors.

It hurts to see her like this. She always looked so strong, so determined. But, over the time I'd gotten to know her, I knew that she was also too damn _stubborn_.

She promised me at the start of the journey that she would protect me.

I never knew how far she was willing to go for me until now.

"Hey, Daisy." I say, taking a seat in the chair beside her makeshift hospital bed. "It's me, Abby." I say, and try not to feel silly at talking to her like she can hear me. She's asleep, and has been for the past few days. But, Dr. Simmons-Jemma-said that even if she can't hear me, she might be able to "sense my presence" or something like that. However, when I look at Daisy, at how pale and vulnerable she is right now, I don't think she'd be able to sense a dump truck crashing into a dynamite factory.

My fists curl in my lap, and I take a deep breath, and continue. "I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm here." I smile softly, remembering how badly Daisy wanted to get here. "We made it to SHIELD." I say softly. "You did it, Daisy.'

I stop talking for a while, and just watch as Daisy's chest rises and falls with her slow breathing. Her heart monitor beeps at a steady pace, and none of her other vital signs are in the red. Dr. Simmons says that she'll live, that she'll be okay...eventually. She'd taken too much damage on her own, and was now paying the price for it.

"I just wanted to make sure you would be okay." I say finally. "I'll come back to visit you soon, but Agent Coulson says that I need to get debriefed about what happened. I'll be back as soon as I can. So...I guess I'll see you later." I get up and walk to the doorway, before I turn and take a final look at my sleeping friend. I don't know if she'll still be here when I get back. Jemma said that she'd be okay, but that these situations can be touch-and-go sometimes. If this was the last time I saw Daisy-God forbid-I wanted to be sure to remember every detail about her, no matter how painful it was.

Daisy's set up in a hospital bed, dressed in a cloth gown. The blood and dirt has been cleaned from her hair and face. Her skin is so pale right now that she looks like a corpse. Her left eye is swollen to the size of a small apple, and bruises mottle her face like a stained-glass window. An oxygen cannula is under her nose, the chords tucked behind her ears. Her right arm is bandaged like a club, and set up in a sling, while her left has gauze wrapped around her bicep. A blanket is tucked around her, covering her stomach and legs, but I know what lies underneath. Her stomach is no doubt wrapped in more bandages, along with her leg.

When I look at her like this, all I can think of is the feeling of her blood seeping through my fingers.

* * *

 _I press down hard on her stomach, trying to stop the steady flow of blood that's coming from the bullet whole. Daisy's lucid from the pain and blood-loss babbling about how sorry she is. She's looking at me, but I know it's not me she's talking to. She keeps saying the name "Lincoln"._

Is that the friend she lost on a mission? _I thought._

 _The Asian woman grabs Daisy's hand, and tells her to squeeze it. When Daisy's doesn't, the woman presses something in her ear, and yells to someone about needing medical help. All the while, Daisy is still mumbling about forgiveness, and how sorry she is, and keeps saying "Lincoln"._ _Suddenly her almost incoherent babbling stops, and her breathing slows. She's dying, I know, so I don't dare to lift my hands from her wound. The Asian woman keeps yelling at Daisy, telling her to open her eyes, to say something, to squeeze her hand, anything._

 _And then an idea forms in my mind._

 _I remember from watching TV shows that cauterizing wounds would close them up and stop the bleeding long enough to find help. All we needed was a fire source...and_ _I was given the power to control fire._

 _I knew what I had to do next, in order to give Daisy a fighting chance._

 _I took one of my hands off of her bleeding stomach, and willed my pointer and index fingers to heat up. They glowed a deep orange, and sizzled in the cool air. Then, doing perhaps the most disgusting thing possible, I forced my fingers into her bullet wounds. I see who more on her leg and her arm, so I burned those shut, too._

 _The Asian woman's eyes go wide when she sees what I'm doing. Then she presses her ear again and says, "Jemma, we need med-evac NOW!"_

 _"Why do you always do this, Kid?" The woman asks. I can't tell if she's talking to me, or Daisy. Probably Daisy, since she doesn't even know my name._

 _As Daisy lays there, with me burning the holes in her shut, the Asian presses her ear again and starts yelling at someone to come find us._ _Another woman runs out to us from the woods. She was on the taller side, with a slight frame. She has long, dark hair ties back into a ponytail, and her skin was was so pale it almost glowed in the dark. She ran towards us, and knelt down next to me. She looked at my burning fingers in Daisy's wounds, before she told me and the other lady to get ready to move her. Then, she pulls out a device, and presses a button. A few seconds later, a giant white box falls from the sky, and lands right beside us. I pull my fingers out of Daisy's wounds after I notice that the bleeding had stopped, and all I was doing was hurting Daisy further._

 _The British lady grabs Daisy from her underarms, and the Asian woman grabs Daisy's ankles. They lift her up as gently and quickly as they can, and rush her into the flying-box-thingy. I follow them, because what else was I going to do? I wasn't about to leave Daisy alone, after everything she's done for me. The inside of the flying box is so white it almost hurts my eyes to look at. We lay Daisy down on a white loft built into the wall of the box, and I try not to burst into tears when her blood turns the sheets red. The older woman presses a button, and the automatic door of the cube closes shut with a hiss. "We're going up!" She says, and I instinctively grip both hands on the windowsill. My stomach drops as the box rockets into the air at breakneck speed. I make the mistake of looking out the window, and try not to throw up as I watch the world grow smaller and smaller in the blink of an eye. Rollercoasters have never been my favorite thing in the world._

 _I turn away from the window, and look towards Daisy. The British lady is kneeling beside her, taking her pulse, and administering first aid. She's wrapping strands of the bedsheet around Daisy's arm and leg. Tourniquets, remember they were called. When the British woman examines Daisy's stomach, I feel my face heat up in shame. The burns that I caused have closed the wound itself, but they were ugly and red and blistery. No doubt they hurt, but it was all I could think of in the moment. The woman looks up at me with a quizzical expression. "You did this?" She asks. I don't think she's trying to be harsh, just...surprised._

 _"Yeah."_

 _She nods. "Good thing you did, too." She says, turning back to Daisy's wound. "It's probably the only reason she's still alive."_

 _Suddenly, a jarring motion racks through the Flying Box. "Get ready to move her." The older woman says, as she opens the door of the Box. I grab Daisy's legs, and the British woman grabs Daisy under her arms. We lift her up together, and bring her out of the Box, into what I can only guess is the cargo hold of a large airplane. There's a medical crew waiting for us with a cot and a bunch of other equipment I've only ever seen on TV shows. We lay her down on the cot, and the medical team takes her away. The British woman follows, and I trail behind her, listening as she says words like, "GSW to the lower abdomen" and "Prep the OR!" and a bunch of other medical terms that I can barely understand._

 _"What does that mean?" I ask. "Will she be okay?"_

 _They don't hear me, or if they do, they ignore me (like most adults do), and continue on their way down the hall. They bring Daisy into another room, and as I try to follow them, a hand grabs me by the arm. It yanks me, back, stopping my pursuit. I fight to get away, but the hand only turns me around. It's the older woman from the woods. Was she behind me this whole time?_

 _"Let me go!" I say, and try to rip my arm from her grip again. She only holds me tighter, but not in a way that hurts me. I know what she's trying to do, but I don't want to let her stop me. I try to tear away, but she grabs my other arm. "Leave me alone!" I yell, and pound against her, digging my heels to try and get an edge over her. She keeps her hold firm, the harder I fight the more she holds me, until I finally collapse into her. I lean against her, my hands curled into fists against her chest. I grip her shirt in my hands, and am reduced into a sobbing mess._

 _"You're alright, Kid." The woman says. I feel her body tense up when I collapse into her, but then she_ _wraps both her arms around me. I can't help but tense up as she does so. I haven't been hugged a lot before, but this one felt...nice. It wasn't a familiar sensation for me, and I don't think it was that familiar for her, either, but it wasn't uncomfortable. I relax into it, and I can feel the woman relax, too._

 _"You're safe, now." The woman says. "You both are."_

 _As she says this, I can't help but think,_ You're lying _._

* * *

After that, I was taken away to a small clinic area they had on the plane. The thing was _huge_! It took the term "Jumbo Jet" to a _whole_ new level. I think there were at least three levels to the entire thing, but I wouldn't put it past them having more. A doctor examined my cuts and bruises, and put a salve on the few burns I still had from when I first got my powers. He bandaged the cut on my head, and gave me some ice for the bruise on my cheek where that Watch Dog hit me. Then they gave me a change of clothes-gray sweats and a t-shirt-and a bag to toiletries, and directed me to a cabin where I could clean up and change. Man, if felt good to take a hot shower. I can't remember the last time I bathed, so there was no doubt I smelled really bad.

After that, a man came to my room. He was middle aged, with a receding brown hairline. But he looked kind, almost like a teacher. "Hello." He says. "My name is Agent Coulson. How are you feeling?" He asks me. He sounds like he actually cares about my answer.

"Better." I say. "How's Daisy's doing?"

A grim look crosses over Agent Coulson's face. "She's...still in surgery." He says. I can tell that there's more to what he's told me, but as usual with adults, they never tell me the whole story. "Why don't you and I get something to eat?" He asks me, turning to the side so the doorway is exposed. "I bet you're hungry."

At the mere mention of food, my stomach growls. What was the last substantial thing I had eaten? Ever since running away, I've been living off of gas station food. If you could call it "food".

"Food sounds good." I say. Agent Coulson walks out the door, and says, "Follow me." Well, _duh_ , I was gonna follow him anyway. I don't know the layout of this giant plane.

Like a lost puppy, I follow Agent Coulson down the hall, into a small kitchen area fit with a fridge, stove, and countertop. I sit at the counter, and watch as Agent Coulson prepares two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and grabs two apples and a carton of milk from the fridge. Then he grabs to packets of something from the cupboard, and starts to heat a saucer of milk on the stove. When it's ready, he pours the hot milk into two mugs, and mixes in the powder. I recognize it as hot chocolate. When he sets the plate of food down in front of me, an I dig in with a vengeance. When I take a break to pick up the mug, I take a long sip of the sweet drink, not caring that I've burned my tongue in the process. I will _never_ take such a simple thing for granted ever again. I'm so focused on my hot chocolate that I barely notice that the man is staring at me as I eat. When I finally look up, he has a look of concern on his face.

"What?" I ask, cause he was really staring to creep me out a little.

"Nothing," Agent Coulson says gently. "You just...remind me of someone, is all." Based on that one sentence alone, I know where this little encounter is going to go.

"Alright," I sigh. "If you've got something to say, just say it, pal." Agent Coulson's eyebrows raise in surprise at my bluntness. "Pardon?" He asks, clearly confused.

"I've seen this show before in the system." I say. "You've buttered me up with free food an hot chocolate-thank you, by the way-so if you've got a bomb to drop, now's a good a time as any. Better do it while I'm still in a semi-decent mood."

Agent Coulson purses his lips. "I only want to know what happened." He says gently.

"I'll answer all your questions if you'll be straight with me." I say. "How is Daisy doing? And I mean how is she _really_ doing. None of that vague 'she's alive' crap. I may be only thirteen years old, but I am _not_ a child. Or stupid, either."

Much to my surprise, Agent Coulson laughs. "I gathered that much." He says. Then a solemn look crosses his face. "To answer your question, Daisy's...well, all I can really say is that she's alive. Whether she'll be okay in the long run, I don't really know. All I know is that Dr. Simmons had to put her in a medically induced coma to allow her body to heal. I don't know for how long she'll be like that."

My mouth goes dry at the news. All I can think is, _Daisy's in a coma?_ I take another bit of my sandwich, and another swallow of my hot chocolate before I finally say, "Thank you, sir, for telling me."

"You had the right to know what was happening." Agent Coulson says. "And your welcome."

"So, please, Abby." He says gently. "Take me through what happened."

"Oh boy," I say, setting the mug to the side. "That's a _really_ long story, sir. Where do I even start?"

"Just take your time." He says in a fatherly voice. "You're safe now, and we have all the time in the world."

I take a deep breath, and take a sip from the hot chocolate. It warms me to the bones, and as crazy as it sounds, it gives me a little courage. I take deep breath, and begin my story.

"It all started back at my foster house."

* * *

 **-Daisy-**

An annoying British voice wakes me up.

It's a voice I've heard many times, and one that I've attributed with the closest thing I'll ever have to family. But right now, all I want to do is sleep, but that voice keeps insisting that I wake up.

" _Daisy..._ " It says. " _Daisy..._ "

But when I wake up, only one of my eyes opens. My vision is still a little blurry, but it clears only in a few moments. When it does, I see Jemma, wearing scrubs, her hand on my shoulder. I take a brief look around, an notice that I'm in a makeshift hospital room.

 _I must be back in the Playground._

"Good." Jemma's gently accented voice says. "I was beginning to fret. You gave us all a rather big scare..." she sighs, " _again_."

I open my mouth, which is entirely dry, and croak, "What-" before breaking out into a coughing fit.

Jemma holds a cup of water with a straw to my lips. "Drink, slowly." She says. "Take little sips."

I close my lips around the straw, and take small, slow sips. It takes everything I have not to gulp down the entire glass. When I can't drink anymore, I spit out the straw.

"Where's" I had to pause to take a breath, "Abby?" Jemma sets the cup aside, and folds her hands together. "She's alright." Jemma says. "She sustained a few cuts and bruises, but she's fine. She's playing video games with Mack right now. She'll be disappointed that she missed you waking up, but I thought it would be better you not be over-stimulated after coming off the meds."

Jemma gives a long sigh. "Honestly, Daisy..." She starts, "You should be more worried about yourself. I really thought we were going to lose you this time."

I gulp, afraid to hear what she's about to say.

Jemma explains my wounds to me. A shattered right arm, a GSW to my left bicep, right calf, and one to my side, which ruptured my appendix. I also had a fractured left orbital socket, which was why my eye wouldn't open. It was swollen shut. Bruised ribs and jawbone and burns finished my mosaic of injuries. Then Jemma says something that surprises me.

I force me head to turn, and low and behold, my left arm is casted from my fingers to my bicep. I try to move my fingertips, but the slight movement causes pain to soar through my body like a rocket. The feeling nearly causes me to throw up.

"What happened to me?" I croak.

"Daisy-"

"What did I do?"

Jemma looks at me sadly, and sighs, knowing that I wouldn't drop this until I got an answer. "You quaked the ground with all your might," she says, "causing your radius and ulna to break in several places. You didn't _stop_ quaking in order to incapacitate the Watch Dogs that were chasing you and Abby. Not that bad of an idea, but one with major consequences as well. The second blast caused the bones in your upper and lower arm to nearly shatter, and the fragments had lodged themselves in the tendons and ligaments in your arm. We were able to get most of them out, but...the damage has been done. Even _with_ reconstructive surgery, I'm not sure that you'll be able to regain full use of your arm."

Fear begins to form in my heart as what she's just told me begins to sink in. I feel tears start to form in my eyes, and barely hear Jemma say "I'm sorry, Daisy."

"I don't care." I say, but really, the tears in my eyes betray me. I feel as if a part of me has been lost, even though I am still physically whole. But I also know that I would _gladly_ do what I did again in a heartbeat, if it meant saving a life. But when I stare at my casted arm, at the bruised fingers that poke out from the plaster, a part of me wishes that it didn't have to end like this.

Jemma's hand wraps around my injured fingers, and I try to "I can't gurantee that I'll get you back to 100%," she says, "but I'm going to do everything I can to try."

* * *

Later that same day, when I was feeling a little more alert, Abby comes in to visit me. She actually _runs_ into my room. I bet she would've jumped onto the bed next to me if I weren't so beat up.

"Hey, Kid." I say, and try to crack a smile for her. All it really does is cause my face to contort in pain. Nevertheless, Abby smiles brightly when she sees me. "How're you feeling?" She asks.

"Like I just got runner by a train." I say, trying to make the mood a little lighter. Abby's smile immediately falls, and I curse myself for trying to joke about my injuries so soon after the fact.

"They told me that I could stay here," Abby starts, staring at her sneakers, "until I learned control...and until they could smooth things over with my foster family." She looks back up at me and shrugs her shoulders. " I don't think that's going to work, though." She says.

"Why not?" I ask, confused, though I have a vague idea of why things might not work out with her former forever-family.

"I just don't think that this-" Abby lights a small flam on the tip of her finger, "is something they could get used to."

I sigh, disappointed at the reality of her statement. The world has changed so much in the past few years, and most of it the world still wasn't ready to accept. Inhumans were real, with real powers and abilities, and many people feared them. "Well..." I start, trying to think of something to say. "Your family would be crazy to not want you back." I finally say. "You're a pretty incredible kid. And hey, you'll probably always have a place here with us if they can't find anyplace else for you."

Abby's eyes light up. "You really mean that?" She asks.

"Trust me." I force a grin, no matter how much it hurts my face. "If I ask them enough, they're bound to give in eventually. If there's anything that I am, it's stubborn."

Abby huffs, crossing her arms. "You got _that_ right!"

* * *

The next morning, the new director of SHIELD, Director Mace, visits me in my hospital room. Coulson had dropped by and told me about him last night, after Abby had left. Mace looks like the carbon copy of a boyscout all grown up. He has a muscular build, hidden poorly under his slightly too-tight suite. He sits down in the chair beside my left so that I can see him with my good eye. Before he can get a single word in, I say "Let Abby stay here."

His mouth opens and shuts like a fish out of water. When he regains his bearings, he says "We're currently in the process of contacting her foster family-"

"What do you think's gonna happen?" I huff, frustrated already.

"It's come to our attention that they may have contacted the Watch Dogs about her...transformation." Mace says carefully. "What their motives might have been, if they _did_ in fact do such a thing, is still unknown."

"Regardless, she can't go back into the system." I say. "She dodged a bullet this time, but if another family finds out what she can do, there's no telling what could happen." I'm getting riled up, and I can hear my heart monitor begin to pick up. When I turn my head to look directly at Mace, the pain almost causes me to gasp. "She has to stay where she's safe," I grunt, "and that sure as hell isn't in the system!"

Mace just stares at me, studying me. All I can guess is that he's trying to guess my true motives. "No, of course not." He finally says slowly. "She doensn't even know how to _use_ her powers, let alone control them. So for now, she's staying here, where she's safe, and where the public is safe from her should she ever lose control." He says it like it was a decision that was already made, but I can tell he was being to my iron-will. I guess he didn't want me hurting myself further trying to argue about it.

I force myself to nod. "Good." I say.

Mace gives me a wry smile. "As for you," he continues, "well, Agent Simmons has filled me in on your condition. I'm sure you're _well_ aware that you'll be out of the limelight for quite some time."

"Yeah."

"Well, once you're all recovered, we can talk about your reinstatement into the agency."

It takes all of my self-control not to body up in surprise. "Wait, what?!" I ask. _Reinstatement_? Was this guy for real? Just what was he trying to do, get his ass kicked out of his Director's position? "With all due respect, Mace, you do _not_ want a known vigilante working for your agency."

Mace crosses his arms. "That's my one condition. Abby can stay here, so long as _you_ stay here, where I can keep an eye on you. You've been running around causing all sorts of trouble, and giving the few Inhumans who are out working for this agency a less that desirable name. If I make you an agent again, we can undo some of that damage if we say it was in the name of SHIELD. Plus, if you're an agent, you can officially take charge of the kid's training, without us having to hide the both of you from other agencies looking for rogue Inhumans. You work for us, we protect the kid. So, _Agent_ Johnson, do we have a deal?"

I consider my options, which aren't that many, and finally nod my head.

"Deal."

 **To Be Continued...**

* * *

 **Author's Note: We're just ONE MORE CHAPTER away from the end! WHOHOO!...for me, at least, since this is my first multi-chapter fanfic. This chapter took a while to complete, as it was my longest my far. I wanted to get all the details just right, to make sure the story flowed well. I never want to put out something if it doesn't sound (or read) right.**

 **See you in two weeks!**

 **-thrillerartist**


	11. Epilogue: Allow Yourself to Heal

**I DO NOT OWN "MARVEL's AGENTS OF SHIELD"!**

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 **After months of hard work and many hours spent overcoming of Writer's Block, I am finally ready to deliver the final chapter of my very first multi-chapter** **fanfic.**

 **For those of you who have no completely skipped over this, in order to get to the chapter, thank you!**

 **And so, without further adieu, I present you you the last chapter of _Forgiveness is a Two Way Street_! **

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**Epilogue: Accept the Past, and Let Yourself Heal**

 _Mace looks at me with a calm expression. "We're currently in the process of contacting her foster family-"_

 _"What do you think's gonna happen?" I huff, frustrated at him already._

 _"It's come to our attention that they may have contacted the Watch Dogs about her...transformation." Mace says carefully. "What their motives might have been, if they did in fact do such a thing, is still unknown."_

 _"Regardless, she can't go back into the system." I say. "She dodged a bullet this time, but if another family finds out what she can do, there's no telling what could happen." I'm getting riled up, and I can hear my heart monitor begin to pick up. When I turn my head to look directly at Mace, the pain almost causes me to gasp. "She has to stay where she's safe," I grunt, "and that sure as hell isn't in the system!" My anger makes my battered body ache and throb with a new pain, and it takes everything I have not to press the button for painkillers._

 _Mace just stares at me, studying me. All I can presume is that he's trying to guess my true motives. "No, of course not." He finally says slowly. "She doesn't even know how to use her powers, let alone control them. So for now, she's staying here, where she's safe, and where the public is safe from her should she ever lose control." He says it like it was a decision that was already made, but I can tell he was bending to my iron-will. I guess he didn't want me hurting myself further by trying to argue about it._

 _"Good." I say._

 _"As for you," Mace continues, "well, Agent Simmons has filled me in on your condition. I'm sure you're well aware that you'll be out of the limelight for quite some time."_

 _"Yeah."_

 _"Well, once you're all recovered, we can talk about your reinstatement into the agency."_

 _"Wait, what?!" I ask, shocked. "With all due respect, Mace, you do not want a known vigilante working for your agency."_

 _Mace crosses his arms. "That's my_ one _condition._ Abby _can stay here, so long as_ you _stay here, where I can keep an eye on you. You've been running around causing all sorts of trouble, and giving the few Inhumans who_ are _out working for this agency a less that desirable name. If I make you an agent again, we can undo some of that damage if we say it was in the name of SHIELD."_

 _I'm about to say a snarky insult about his judgement, just before Mace adds, "Plus, if you're an agent, you can officially take charge of the kid's training, without us having to hide the both of you from other agencies looking for rogue Inhumans. You work for us, we protect the kid. So, Agent Johnson, do we have a deal?"_

 _I consider my options, which aren't that many, and finally nod my head._

 _"Deal."_

 _ **Six Months Later...**_

 **-Daisy-**

"Good, Abby." I say. "Focus, now, the targets are starting to move." Abby's shooting fireballs at moving targets, and from here I can see sweat beading on her forehead. It takes a lot of effort to focus her powers, I know from my own experience. It took her about a week to learn to control her fire, and another month to concentrate it around her hands without lighting up her hair, too. But learning control did not come without its hazards, too. The first time she was able to willingly turn herself into a human Roman candle, she'd lost control and set the gym on fire. Now, three months later, she's shooting moving targets in a controlled space.

I watch her from the side of the gym, impressed at the progress she's made. I imagine that this was how my mother felt when she taught me how to use my powers correctly. The memory of her standing beside me as I happen into the vibrations of a mountain stirs a familiar sensation within me. Consequently, it also causes a sudden tremor of pain to bring my attention away from Abby. I put my good around around my damaged one, which was still hung in a sling.

Since coming back to SHIELD, Jemma had done almost ten surgeries to repair the shredded bones, muscles, and ligaments in my left arm. She successfully removed most of the shards from muscles, and reconnected the torn ligaments, and put in grafts to fill that gaps too broken to repair. The muscles would heal on their own, she said, but the bones and ligaments would need more work. Tomorrow, I'd be going through another surgery to repair a few tendons in my wrist. Apparently, there were some bone shards still lodged in there that were gradually cutting away nerves and connective tissue. Jemma said that, at best, I'd have 90% range of motion in my left arm once it healed. That was about as much as I was going to get, but I'll take it. At least I can still use my arm.

But still, the damage was done, and some of it won't ever heal. It left me unable to feel the fingertips on my right hand, and can't rotate my arm completely. It still functions normally-for the most part- but I still have a lot of physical therapy to get through before I can become a field agent again. Right now, I'm still relearning to hack systems as fast as I used to. My reaction time in my hands is still off, and the surgery tomorrow would set me back a few weeks. Hopefully, once all is said and done, I'll be able to code and hack like I used to.

It felt strange, the first few weeks I'd had to spend in a hospital bed. As much as I wanted to get up and move around, my body was covered in so much pain that it was impossible to even breath without hurting. But the worst and scariest thing about me in those first few weeks, was not being able to use my arm. I felt that I'd lost a part of me, even though, physically, I was still very much whole. I still felt that way, sometimes, when I was reminded that I couldn't do things as well as I used to. I could barely even hold a cup for a while. That was _very_ frustrating, you can imagine.

"That's enough." I say, bringing myself out of my painful reminiscence. Abby stops her shooting, and puts her hands on her knees. She's exhausted, but her session still isn't done.

"Can't I take a break?" Abby whines, something I've learned to ignore over the past few months since we've started training.

"No", I say, and I can't help but smile at the fact that I'm starting to sound like May. "Move on to the next exercise." I say.

Abby's sessions were compiled mostly into exercises that would practice control, concentration, and precision. Her powers could be very dangerous if they were to get out of control. I was hoping that by teaching her these exercises, she could someday return to her normal life without worrying about losing control again.

Right now, Abby's standing on the far side of the gym, close to the entrance. She's staring at a table on the wall opposite her with so much focus, that I can almost see the gears turning inside her head. It was an exercise similar to how I had to vibrate several glasses of water at once. However, instead of glasses, Abby has to light several candles at once from across the room. It's the hardest thing she's had to do so far, and I won't let her start anything new until she can learn to do this. So far, all she's been able to do is stare and get frustrated.

Abby breaks her concentration, and puts her hands on her knees, leaning over while she gasped for breath. "I can't do it." She says as she sucks in air. "Lighting a candle without touching it? It's impossible!"

"That's what I thought, too." I say as I put my good hand on her shoulder. "I thought I would never learn to do the things I can now. I thought they were impossible, too, but they weren't. I'd just convinced myself that they were."

Abby looks up at me with uncertainty, sweat dripping down her face. Looking at her, I can't help but notice how much she's grown in the past few months. She's finally hit her growth spurt, and was now almost up to my nose. Her hair's grown, too, though now it's pulled back into a ponytail. It used to be just a stump that she'd pull back into a hair tie, but now it went down almost past her shoulders. The way her hair framed her face when she let it down made her appear younger than she was. Her eyes, though, have kept their guarded look, making her look older than thirteen.

"You _can_ do this", I say again. "I know you can. You can't give up now, not after you've come so far."

Abby nods, and pushes flyaways from her face. "Alright." She says, recomposing her focus. A minute passes, and Abby's still staring intently at the candles.

"Feel your power within you." I say, "Focus it on your target. Then let it out, gently."

Another minute passes...and then another.

And then, a lone candle at the center of the table flickers to light on the table. The flame on its wick grows to the size of an eraser, and glows brighter, until the entire candle melts onto the table.

Abby releases her focus, and the flam extinguishes. She gasps, and wipes beads of sweat from her face. "That good enough?" She asks dryly.

I rub my knuckles into her hair, and grin with pride for her. "You did great." I say, "I can't wait to see what you can do next!"

Abby groans. "No, not _another_ pointless exercise."

"Hey, this is important!" I say, a little hurt she thinks its pointless what she's doing.

"When am I ever going to need to light a candle from across the room?" Abby asks, still wiping more sweat from her brow. "I want to do cool things with my power. Stuff like _you_ can do."

I sigh, exasperated. We'd had this conversation several times before, and it always came down to me lecturing Abby about patience. Amazing. _Me_ , not only giving a _lecture_ , but one about _patience_.

 _What is this kid doing to me?_ I thought.

Suddenly, Abby's eyes light up with excitement. "Hey, you think that if I forced enough fire to my hands, it'd lift me up off of the ground? You know, like Iron Man, but without all the armor?"

I stare at Abby with a serious look. "Kid, don't even try it-"

Before I can finish my sentence, Abby lights up her hands, points them to the ground, and causes an inferno to engulf the room. Once she realizes her mistake, she commands the fire to cease, but her mark has already been made. The entire floor of the gym had become a black circle from, with Abby directly in the middle of it. Smoke and embers cloud the entire room, and some of the gym equipment has caught fire. I stand still in my spot, and brush off embers that had fallen onto my sling. "Great." I sigh, covering my eyes with my good hand. " Now I have to tell Mace that we burned down the gym... _Again_."

"Sorry, Daisy." Abby says, sheepish and embarrassed that her brilliant idea didn't work.

"It's okay, Kid." I sigh, "Hazards of the trade, Mace knows that...just don't ever do that again, or you're grounded for a week."

Abby groans. "What are you, my mother now?" She says jokingly.

I laugh at her sarcasm. "Nope. You're _way_ to old to have a mother my age."

Abby looks up at me, smirking. "Oh, yeah? How about an over-protective, naggy big sister? Cause you check _a lot_ of those boxes already."

"Big sister, huh." I chuckle, humoring the idea. "Yeah...I could live with that."

As we walk out of the gym just as the emergency sprinklers go off. I wrap my left arm around Abby's shoulders, and I can feel her lean into me a little.

"Love you, _Sis_." Abby whispers. I don't think she intended for me to hear it, but I did all the same. It made me smile, and a

"Love you too, Kid." I whisper back.

 **To Be continued...**

 **Nah, just kidding!**

 **THE END**

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 **Author's Note: And thus continues my very first multi-chapter fanfic! Thanks for all the reviews, follows, likes, and comments!**

 **A special thanks to my best friend afangirlofsorts for helping me with the story, and for giving me ideas about what I should include in the story.**

 **Keep your eyes out for more of my stories! I'm not done writing just yet!**

 **-thrillerartist**


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